


The 12 Days of Eamesmas

by teacuphuman



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Ageplay, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Arthur in a dress, Biting, Breathplay, Chase Through the Woods, Choking, Christmas Smut, Comeplay, Creampie, Crossdressing, Daddy!Eames, Dom!Eames, Domestic Bliss, Drag Queens, Exhibitionism, Face Slapping, Fingerfucking, Humiliation, M/M, Paddling, Pet Play, Public Display of Affection, Punishment, Riding Crops, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Car, Sex on a Car, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Taunting, fake manipulation, gay role models, little old ladies in elevators, pony shoes, rimmimg, sub!Arthur, switch whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 58,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9047645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: Eames gifts Arthur with 12 challenges designed to test them both.





	1. December 25th: One Master Marking

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place in the same universe as my [The Dark Creature](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684804) and [One Step Forward](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7929028) fics and is a continuation of the relationship depicted there. It's not necessary to have read those, but it might help with how their relationship works. Basically, Arthur and Eames meet through a very detailed and selective service that matches people with kinks. Eames enjoys Arthur so much that he asks him to stay. Arthur does, and continues to be the delightful little shit we all know and love.
> 
> Giant, huge, massive thanks to [oceaxe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe) for beta-ing this series for me and talking me down when I was ready to give it up for a loss. You're my guardian porn angel, my dear!

It starts with a box. After all the other gifts have been opened, examined, and put away. Arthur’s new messenger bag on the table in the hall, his new Prada shoes stored carefully in the closet. Eames’ supple leather gloves resting, full of promise in the top drawer of their toy chest. 

 

“But we opened all our gifts,” Arthur says, a little crease between his brows.

 

“That’s not a Christmas gift.” Eames strokes a finger down his spine. Arthur is stretched across Eames’ lap, his head resting on the arm on the couch. 

 

“But it’s Christmas, and it’s under the tree.” Arthur argues, arching when Eames scratches his way back up and under his loose t-shirt.

 

“Maybe you should just open it.”

 

Arthur turns his head back to the tree. “It’s for me?”

 

Eames smiles. “Everything is for you, pet.”

 

Arthur slides to the floor, crawling over to the tree, and Eames didn’t ask him to, but he enjoys the sight all the same. Arthur’s supple arse flexing under his black boxer briefs, making Eames’ mouth water. He keeps the flat at a comfortable twenty-three degrees so he can indulge in the need for a naked Arthur whenever he pleases. 

 

Arthur comes back to Eames, kneeling at his feet with the box in his lap, staring up at him with anticipation. Eames runs his hand through Arthur’s close cropped hair.

 

“Go on, then.”

 

Arthur removes the lid of the box, frowning up at Eames once he’s seen what’s inside.

 

“One Master Marking?” he asks, tracing the words on the small card.

 

“Mmm,” Eames lets his fingers wander down Arthur’s neck. “It’s the Twelve Days of Eamesmas, darling.”

 

Arthur’s frown deepens. “The what? Is this why you made me take two weeks off work? I thought you were going to surprise me with a vacation.”

 

“This is better than a vacation.” Eames’ fingers dig into Arthur’s neck and Eames smiles as Arthur goes limp. “This is a challenge.”

 

Arthur exhales a shaky breath, leaning against Eames’ legs.

 

“Twelve days. You and me, pushing past all your limits,” Eames whispers, petting at Arthur’s shoulders. “But only if you’re up for it.”

 

Arthur stiffens, glaring up at him. “I can do it.”

 

“I know you can. I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t think you could. It’s not going to be easy though, darling. It’s going to hurt and you’re going to be exhausted, but I just know that by the end you’ll be singing from all the attention I’m going to give you.”

 

Arthur shivers, rubbing his cheek on Eames’ knee. 

 

“Daddy will be so proud of you when you come out the other side in one piece.”

 

“Yes,” Arthur says quietly, nudging his head up Eames’ thigh. “Anything for you.”

 

Eames grips his chin, forcing Arthur’s head up. “Not just for me, love. This is for us. You have to trust me to take care of you, and Daddy needs to prove he can see his boy through. Do you understand?”

 

Arthur nods and Eames digs his fingers in, shaking Arthur’s head sharply.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur gasps.

 

“Good. We begin now. Go undress and climb on the bed.”

 

Arthur scurries to obey, pushing his underwear down as he goes and smirking over his shoulder at Eames before disappearing into the bedroom. Eames gives him a few minutes to get settled, taking the time to slide fully into the moment. Arthur’s demanding and challenging, and he can be vicious when things don’t go his way, but he’s also the most rewarding partner Eames has ever had. If he can get Arthur out of his head and into subspace he’ll purr like a kitten, and Eames knows he’ll never get tired of the gratitude Arthur shows him for being strong enough to push and shove until Arthur gives in.

 

They adjusted to each other quickly in the beginning, and Eames had to redraw a few of his own lines to make room for Arthur’s stubbornness, but he’s never regretted it. Since day one, Arthur has challenged him in ways he didn’t think a sub could, and it’s been one hell of a ride. He knows Arthur is committed, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a small part of him that worries Arthur will grow tired of him and move on. Eames has a wealth of experience, but a day could come where Arthur decides to see what else is out there. That’s one of the reason’s Eames has devised these challenges; to reinforce his mark on Arthur and show him he can still handle his needs.

 

By the time Eames goes into the bedroom, Arthur’s clothes are on the floor and he’s laying on his stomach on the bed, watching Eames closely from where his head is resting on his folded arms.

 

Eames tsks and picks up the clothes, folding them carefully and setting them on the dresser. He knows the move was meant to irritate him into showing his hand, but he doesn’t take the bait. It’s Arthur’s go-to move when he’s nervous or unsure of where they’re heading. 

 

Eames stands at the end of the bed and wraps his fingers around Arthur’s ankles. Arthur stiffens, pressing his forehead to the mattress, his breath quickening. Eames knows he expects to be secured to the bedframe, but part of this is about testing Arthur’s obedience and for that Eames has to give up a little control.

 

He digs his fingers in and leans down to skim his teeth over Arthur’s achilles heel. “Stay still for Daddy, kitten.”

 

Arthur takes a deep breath and relaxes into the mattress, his limbs going slack. Eames releases his ankle and reapplies his teeth, biting down until he feels the tendon jump under his tongue. Arthur’s toes curl, but he doesn’t make a sound. When Eames is satisfied there will be a mark, he lets go, examining the reddened skin.

 

WIthout speaking, Eames trails his lips up Arthur’s calf, pausing to suck on the hollow behind his knee. Arthur squirms for a second, then reigns himself in, his breath hitching as he’s tickled. Eames moves quickly to the inside of his thigh, about halfway up, and bites down hard. Arthur makes a strangled noise, but his beautiful boy fights to stay still, allowing himself only the smallest of jolts.

 

Eames increases the pressure, sucking the soft skin into his mouth as his teeth clamp down and all Arthur does is spread his thighs a little wider, giving Eames more room to work. He crawls into the space Arthur’s made for him, letting go and quickly claiming another mouthful of flesh an inch away.

 

He swipes his tongue over the marks, feeling the indents his teeth have made and Arthur grunts.

 

“Gorgeous,” Eames tells him, pressing harder. “Daddy’s going to cover you with teeth marks so no one will question who you belong to. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

 

Arthur doesn’t answer, he knows by now what requires a response and what doesn’t. Eames hauls him up by the hips and sink his teeth into the luscious curve of Arthur’s left ass cheek. He bites his way to the cleft, digging his fingers in hard to open Arthur up so he can bite the underside, right where his ass meets his sack. He wiggles his jaw until Arthur’s gasping and he can feel his teeth touching through the delicate skin. The bite turns into a suck and he pulls back, letting go with a filthy pop.

 

He leaves deep, patterned teeth marks all over Arthur’s ass and he’s never been so proud of his misaligned bite. There’s no way Arthur can question who has scored him with Eames’ signature indented in his skin. 

 

Eames leaves purpling indents along Arthur’s right shoulder blade, moving on to his trapezius to suckle and bite down hard enough that Arthur whimpers. The tiny nips all around the back of his neck are red and puffy by the time Eames rolls him over to complete the chain. When Eames draws back to examine the collar he’s left, a sharp, hot stab of want goes through him and he attacks Arthur’s lips, biting and licking until Arthur’s a gasping, panting mess and his lips are nearly raw from the friction.

 

He sets his teeth into the curve where Arthur’s pectoral becomes his underarm, shaking his head a little to darken the bruise that will bloom. By the time he reaches Arthur’s nipples, Arthur’s so deep into subspace he hardly reacts when Eames scrapes his blunt front teeth over first one, then the other, drawing them into peaks and continuing until they’re puffy and Arthur’s quaking when Eames blows over them.

 

Arthur’s stomach is flat and firm, but Eames presses his face against it until he can grip a mouthful of flesh and nibbles away, leaving crescent indents all across his abdomen and over his hips. Arthur whimpers when Eames’ mouth draws him in so Eames calms him with a few slow, soft sucks, feeling Arthur harden fully on his tongue. Once he has Arthur pressed to the back of his throat, he pulls back, dragging his teeth lightly over the shaft, letting go when he hits the underside of the head. He does it three more times, then lets Arthur slip free, springing up again the bite mark under his navel. He leaves one last mark on the front of Arthur’s thigh, just deep enough to bruise, then settles at the head of the bed, tugging Arthur into his lap. 

 

“You were so good, love,” Eames whispers in his ear. “Did you like that?”

 

Arthur’s head falls back to Eames’ shoulder. “Hurts.”

 

“I know, I know, but you’ll be all sorts of pretty colours in the morning, won’t you? Daddy knows how much you like that.”

 

Arthur grumbles and squirms in his lap until Eames takes pity on him and wraps one arm around his waist, fingers digging into the bite on his hip, and one around his leaking cock. He strokes firm and steady, just like Arthur likes it best. Eames’ mouth closes over the tendon in Arthur’s neck, teeth clamping down hard. Arthur jolts, pulling against the hold, but Eames hold him in place, jerking Arthur faster.

 

Arthur fights back, just like Eames knew he would, and he has to bite down harder to keep him from breaking away. Arthur’s whining and bucking, and when Eames presses harder against his hip, adding suction to his hold on Arthur’s neck, Arthur convulses, come spurting onto his stomach and over Eames’ fingers. Eames strokes him through it, not releasing his hold until Arthur’s finished coming and is lying still and limp in his arms. He feels a bit like a dog with a rabbit caught in it’s jaws, just having shaken the animal hard enough to break its neck. The sense of his own power, and Arthur’s vulnerability floods through him and he carefully widens his jaw, releasing him. 

 

The mark he’s left is delicious, already a deep purple, no doubt moving into black by morning. There a small tear where he’s broken through the skin, but no blood and nothing so bad as to leave a scar. He grabs the small first aid kit from the bedside table and disinfects the broken skin, covering it with a small bandage. He kisses the wound before rolling Arthur onto his side and curling up behind him. He’s hard and aching, and it would be nothing to slip inside Arthur and take what’s his, but Eames knows what’s coming in the days ahead, and it will be trial for them both so he wraps his arms around Arthur and pulls him in close.

 

“You were beautiful, pet. Daddy’s so proud.”

 

A smile curves over Arthur’s swollen mouth as he turns his head for a kiss. Eames gives him two, then settles him down for a nap. His beautiful boy is going to need his rest.


	2. December 26-Two Pony Shoes

Arthur glares into the second box, his whole body telegraphing his displeasure. “I don’t want to be a pony.”

 

Eames smiles, pulling the shoes out from their nest of tissue and dangling them in front of Arthur’s face. “You won’t be a pony, Arthur. There’s no bit or tail, I’m not going to bring out the riding crop and make you prance around.”

 

“Then why the pony shoes?” he huffs, ready to argue.

 

“Because you told me you were ready to be challenged and this will test your limits. I have set you certain tasks and you will prove to me that you can perform them, while wearing the shoes. You will not sit down, or fall.”

 

Arthur bites at his lip. “What are the tasks?”

 

“You’ll find out once you put on the shoes. You know how this works, pet.” Eames lets a hint of steel drop into his voice and Arthur perks up.

 

“What do I get if I accomplish all the tasks?”

 

“Maybe nothing,” Eames shrugs. “Maybe anything you desire. There’s only one way to find out.” Eames holds the shoes out and Arthur stares at them, trying to work out the possible risks and benefits to putting them on. 

 

“Fine,” he spits, taking the shoes. “But if you make even one horse joke, I’m taking them off.”

 

Eames grins, his teeth flashing. “You take those off once they’re on and I really will whip you.”

 

Arthur ducks his head, a small smile playing over his mouth as he opens the buckles on the shoes. Eames pats the spot beside him on the couch and Arthur hops up, allowing Eames  to draw one of Arthur’s long, lean legs over his knee and slide the first shoe on. Eames rubs his thumb over the bite mark from the day before and Arthur shivers both from the memory, and the touch. 

 

Once both shoes are on, Eames carefully lowers Arthur’s legs to the floor. His feet are arched in the shoes, heels up, with all the pressure on the ball, and Arthur knows it won’t cripple him completely, but it won’t be long before he’s uncomfortable.

 

Eames helps him stand up, and Arthur studies his legs in the mirror over the mantle. His calves are engaged and the muscles bulge, lending a fuller, stronger look to one of Eames’ favourite parts of him.

 

“Steady?” Eames checks.

 

“I’m fine,” Arthur snaps, taking a careful step forward. He wobbles a little, but keeps his head up. He’s going to ace this challenge, just like the last, even if he’s in tears by the end. “What are my tasks?”

 

“You sure you don’t want to practice a bit first?” Eames asks, fighting to keep the smile off his face. 

 

Arthur glares at him.

 

“First, the dishwasher needs to be emptied and reloaded.” 

 

Arthur gapes. “You’re going to make me do household chores? Seriously?”

 

Eames grabs him roughly by the back of the neck, pulling forward and down so Eames is leaning over him. “Are you questioning me?”

 

“No, Daddy,” Arthur whispers, baring his neck in submission, his cock twitching in his underwear. 

 

Eames eyes travel down his bare chest, where Arthur’s no doubt turning a deep shade of red from humiliation and arousal. “Then get in there and do as you’re told. Once you’ve finished, Daddy will have another chore for you.” Eames releases him and Arthur stumbles, catching himself on the arm of the couch before righting himself and going into the kitchen to empty the dishwasher. 

 

By the time he’s finished with the dishes and swept and mopped the kitchen floor, Arthur’s feet are aching. It’s only been an hour, but he’s quickly realizing he’s underestimated the shoes. Eames watches him closely from the doorway and Arthur’s determination not to show any discomfort is crumbling under his worried gaze. If Eames thinks he’s in too much pain he’ll make Arthur stop, and stopping means losing. Arthur hates to lose. 

 

The one and only time he’d used his safeword with Eames had been soul crushing. Eames had tried to reason with him, to explain that the reason they have a safeword is to use it when needed, but Arthur couldn’t see past the failure he’d become in his mind. He’d spent two weeks refusing to allow Eames to touch him, not believing he deserved any comfort or reassurance.

 

He’s past that now, but he can’t say for sure that bowing out of this won’t put him right back where he was then. This challenge is different. Eames hasn’t said so, but Arthur’s sure there’s something big, something potentially life-changing at the end of it, if only Arthur can make it through. 

 

It’s with that in mind that Arthur asks for his next chore. Eames follows him through the apartment while Arthur collects the laundry, sorting it and starting the first load. Eames has him polish the dining room table and sanitize their chest of toys, reorganizing it by colour and size. He changes the sheets and stacks Eames’ ridiculous throw pillows on the bed. It’s strange for him to be doing these mundane things. Eames works from home and usually does the chores while Arthur’s at the office. Their relationship doesn’t really have a master/slave component and Eames doesn’t require Arthur to wait on him, which is good because they wouldn’t have made it past the first night if he did. 

 

Arthur knows that doing all these things for him is one of the many ways Eames takes care of him, and now that he looks for it, there’s a tightness in Eames’ jaw that tells him what a hardship it is for Eames to have Arthur do them. The spitfire inside Arthur sparks and he leaves the last pillow sitting on the chaise at the end of the bed. Eames catches his wrist on his way out the door and Arthur’s pulse jumps.

 

“You’re not finished,” Eames tells him, his eyes dark and dangerous.

 

Arthur smirks. “Yes, I am.”

 

“Nooo,” Eames says slowly, tilting his head at the pillow. “You’re not.”

 

Arthur squares his shoulders, locking his knees against the wobble the shoes cause. “I don’t like that pillow.”

 

Eames smiles, his teeth sharp and gleaming. “I didn’t ask if you like it. I asked you to make the bed. The pillow goes on the bed.”

 

“Fuck the pillow,” Arthur spits, thrilling when Eames’ fingers tighten around his wrist as it’s raised above his head.

 

“Language, darling. Daddy doesn’t like a dirty mouth,” Eames warns.

 

“What’s my next task?”

 

The fingers of Eames’ other hand glide through Arthur’s hair, pulling back sharply until Arthur’s throat is bared and he’s rocking back, dangerously close to falling over in the shoes. “You will apologize for your language.”

 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Arthur says immediately, voice tight.

 

“Good boy. Now fetch me that pillow.” Eames lets him go with a shove, sending Arthur stumbling into the chaise.

 

Arthur rights himself quickly, mindful of the rules. He snatches up the pillow and holds it out to Eames. Eames leans down and runs a firm hand up the inside of Arthur’s thigh, making him wobble a little, then doing it again to the other leg.

 

“Open,” Eames orders and shoves the pillow between his legs, wedging it into the space just below his groin.

 

Arthur frowns, squeezing his thighs to keep the pillow in place.

 

“If the pillow falls, you’ve failed. Now,” Eames smiles. “Take out the trash.”

 

Arthur’s eyes go wide, but he takes a careful step towards the bedroom door. It’s more of a waddle now, putting pressure on his knees as he struggles to keep his balance while fighting to keep hold of the pillow.

 

“Ah, ah,” Eames says from behind him. “All the rubbish bins, please.”

 

Arthur grits his teeth and turns around, almost toppling over in his haste. He takes a deep breath and starts over, bending to remove the liner from the trash on Eames’ side of the bed. One down, four to go. 

 

Slowly, carefully, Arthur makes it to the rest of the bins, then out the door to the elevator. For one terrible moment when Eames stops him, Arthur thinks he’s going to be told to take the stairs, but Eames just wraps a long coat around his nearly naked body and pats him on the ass on his way out the door. 

 

Eames watches him until the elevator doors close, and if he really wanted to, Arthur could lean against the wall and remove the pillow for a rest. But Eames trusts him not to, and that’s a heady feeling, one that fills him with pride and power, so he stands as straight as he can, hobbling out of the lift when it opens and heading through the back of the building to where the dumpster is waiting.

 

It’s cold out and the shock of it makes him stagger so Arthur contracts his abs and tries to ignore the aching in his feet. By the time he makes it back upstairs, he’s sweating with the effort to stay upright and his arches are screaming. Eames takes the coat off of him and sends him to the bedroom to wait. He’s been in the shoes for almost four hours and if he had to choose again, he’s not sure he’d agree to it a second time.

 

He’s still shivering from the cold and exhaustion when Eames comes in with a glass of water. He puts the glass to Arthur’s mouth, tilting it up so he can drink and making soothing noises when Arthur chokes a little and water dribbles out of his mouth, cascading down his chin.

 

“Daddy is so pleased with your effort, darling.” Eames smiles at him and Arthur’s heart sinks. Effort means it’s not over yet. Effort means he can still fail.

 

“Daddy,” he croaks, suddenly panicked.

 

“Just a little more,” Eames promises. “You’ll like this part better, but it won’t ease the pain, I’m afraid.”

 

Arthur whimpers when Eames tugs the pillow out from between his legs and drops it to the floor. The moment it’s gone, he’s slumping, feeling the loss of stability acutely.

 

“Hush, now. You’re doing beautifully. Stay standing through this last part and Daddy will take them off.” Eames runs the tip of his nose over Arthur’s sternum, his tongue coming out to trace the water Arthur spilled. Eames goes to his knees on the pillow, peeling down Arthur’s underwear.

 

“No,” Arthur pleads, knowing the chances of him staying on his feet through this are low and feeling like the game’s been designed with him in mind, but rigged to ensure he fails. Eames’ mouth is sinfully good and Arthur has never been able to keep from melting when it’s around his cock.

 

“Yes,” Eames says, nuzzling the hair at the base of Arthur cock, teasing him into hardening.

 

Arthur sobs, his feet are pins and needles and the blood rushing to his cock makes them throb. He wants this to be over. He wants to take the shoes off and burn them to crisps. They’re hateful things, meant for torture and pain and he’d very much like to be done now.

 

“Soon,” Eames whispers, lips rubbing up Arthur’s shaft.

 

“Daddy, please,” Arthur rasps, choking on the words when Eames’s mouth closes around him, hot and moist, and not at all enough to distract him from the cramping in his feet.

 

Eames doesn’t fool around or draw it out, he sucks Arthur down, tight and steady, his tongue massaging the underside of Arthur’s cock as he bobs his head. Arthur moans when Eames takes him onto his throat, swallowing around the head, then pulling off and doing it again, and again. Arthur wants to enjoy it, he really does, but a sharp pain is stabbing into the balls of his feet and all his focus is going towards staying vertical.

 

Eames pulls back to lick at Arthur’s slit, his hand stroking him quickly, working to draw out Arthur’s orgasm from sense memory alone. Arthur lets out a strangled cry and Eames closes his lips over the head of his cock, sucking lightly as Arthur comes, lurching forward and almost falling right over Eames. It’s painful and it makes every ache in his lower extremities sharper, throbbing in time with his ejaculations. 

 

Eames swallows quickly, reaching up to ease Arthur onto the chaise behind him. Arthur screams when the first shoe comes off and his foot tries to return to its regular position. Eames digs his thumbs into the bottom of his foot, coaxing Arthur through the spasms until his breath is just a hitch and his calf has stopped contracting. The second foot is no better and tears are dripping off his chin by the time Eames lowers his foot to the floor and takes Arthur’s underwear off the rest of the way. 

 

“I’ll be right back, love.” Eames hands him the pillow to hold and kisses his temple before disappearing into the ensuite. 

 

Arthur’s shaking by the time Eames comes back and pulls him into his lap.

 

“You amaze me, darling. Just when I think I know exactly how you’ll perform, you throw out the rule book and start from scratch.” Eames kisses the side of his head, over and over while he rocks Arthur. There’s water running, and just as his teeth start to chatter, Eames is lifting Arthur in his arms and carrying him into the bathroom. He lowers Arthur into the hot water with a grunt, settling on his knees and shutting off the faucet.

 

The water is nearly too hot and Arthur lets out a shaky sob when he sticks his feet under the surface, pain pricking over his soles. Eames bushes his hair back, rubbing Arthur’s thigh under the water. He’s lit one of Arthur’s candles and the scent of oranges wafts through the air, refreshing and grounding him.

 

“Kitten?” Eames checks when Arthur’s been still and quiet for a while, eyes closed in the moisture of the room.

 

Arthur huffs, sinking lower under the water.

 

“Are you mad at Daddy?” Eames asks and Arthur cracks one eye open, worried at the tone of Eames’ voice.

 

“I didn’t fail,” Arthur croaks.

 

“No, darling, you were unbelievable. Daddy is so happy with you. I had no idea you’d do so well.” Eames smiles softly, cupping Arthur’s cheek. “How do you feel?”

 

“My feet hurt,” Arthur tells him, knowing there’s no reason to hide his discomfort now that he’s passed the test.

 

“I’ll rub them again when you get out, and again before bed. Daddy will carry you around the flat if that’s what you want.” Eames beams and Arthur realizes he’s really, truly proud of him. Eames says it a lot, and while he always means it, there’s more weight to it this time.

 

Arthur searches Eames’ face for any indication of what this is all about, but finds none. Eames pulls his hand out of the water, kissing over Arthur’s knuckles. He seems oddly emotional and grateful, and Arthur’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth so he closes his eyes and sinks lower until the surface of the water skims his jaw.

 

“I want ice cream,” he says petulantly.

 

Eames chuckles.” I suppose you’ll want me to feed it to you, too, hmm?”

 

Arthur smiles smugly. “Yes, Daddy.”

  
“My greedy boy,” Eames says fondly, and the possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver up Arthur’s spine.


	3. December 27th-Three Fingers Fucking

Not for the first time, Eames is thankful for Arthur being such a heavy sleeper. By the time his boy fully wakes, Eames has him bound, arms crossed behind him and tied with a pretty green rope. It’s nothing fancy, just a few loops and wrappings to keep his hands from interfering with today’s challenge. Not having the use of his arms always throws Arthur’s balance off a little, and Eames loves to see him struggle. 

 

Eames puts the box on the pillow beside Arthur’s head and pets his hair, urging him to open his eyes. Arthur grumbles and tries to burrow under his pillow, pausing when he realizes his arms have been bound.

 

“Come on, darling, it’s time to get on with it,” Eames coos, pushing Arthur’s hair off his brow.

 

Arthur frowns adorably, a red crease running over his cheek to his ear. “What’s happening?” 

 

“Time for the next box, pet.”

 

“Already?” Arthur snuffles, flexing against his bonds and rolling onto his side.

 

“We must keep to a strict schedule if we’re going to make it through this. Come on, open the box.”

 

Arthur curls onto his knees slowly, taking a moment to stretch his body while Eames watches the slim musculature of Arthur’s chest and arms strain and relax. His stomach is nearly concave before he’s eaten and his half hard cock is slumped sideways, brushing against his left hip as he settles into a comfortable position.

 

“You’re so lovely in the morning,” Eames tells him.

 

“You only say that because you’re too far away to smell my morning breath.” Arthur yawns grandly.

 

“Why do you think I always take you from behind in the morning?” Eames teases.

 

Arthur rolls his eyes. “How am I supposed to open it?” 

 

Eames narrows his eyes and Arthur sighs, bending forward to bite the bow on the top of the box. He pulls the lid off and tosses his head, sending it halfway across the room. Arthur’s eyes widen when he reads the card in the box.

 

“Yes,” he grins.

 

“There are rules.”

 

“Of course there are,” Arthur huffs.

 

Eames grabs him by the chin, pulling Arthur forward until he has to fight to keep his balance. “You can leave at any time, Arthur. Daddy’s rules are meant to keep you happy, but if they’re not doing that anymore, you have to let me know.”

 

Arthur’s frowns, his eyes tracking over Eames’ serious expression. “That’s not what I - I don’t want to leave,” he says, a quiet thread of panic lacing his words.

 

“But you can. You make me very happy, darling, but it has to go both ways.”

 

“It does,” Arthur insists, shuffling forward on his knees until he’s practically in Eames’ lap. 

 

Eames kisses him before he can say anything else. There actually is a schedule, and he’s determined to stick to it.

 

“Prove it,” he says when he breaks the kiss, pushing Arthur gently back.

 

“Three Fingers Fucking. I’m assuming your fingers will be doing the fucking. Doesn’t seem like there’s much for me to do but lay here and take it.” Arthur grins, spreading his legs wider.

 

“You’re a brat,” Eames points a finger at him. “All you’re getting from me is lube and a stationary hand, you’ll have to do the rest.”

 

“What? How am I supposed to do that?” 

 

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. Now, let’s go brush your teeth before we get started.”

 

Once Eames has helped Arthur banish his morning breath and use the toilet, Eames settles on the big, red throne chair in the corner of their bedroom, the bottle of lube in his hand.

 

“Don’t be shy, pet, tell me what you want.”

 

“Me?” Arthur asks, staring worriedly at Eames’ hands.

 

“Yes, you. I told you, you have to get yourself off. I’m merely here to be used as a tool for your pleasure.”

 

“And if I decide I don’t want to use lube?” 

 

Eames glares. “We’ve been over this. Daddy will not harm you. Even if you ask for it.”

 

“Such a caring Daddy,” Arthur murmurs, stepping closer. “You spoil me.”

 

“I do,” Eames agrees. “But you’re such a good boy, Daddy just can’t help himself.”

 

“No lube yet,” Arthur whispers in his ear, straddling Eames’ leg and rubbing himself against the soft fabric of Eames’ sweatpants. “Pet me, Daddy. One finger.”

 

Eames groans. He thought he’d have to talk Arthur into taking control since he’s often so eager to hand it over. But Arthur’s voice is firm, like he expects his demands to be met, so Eames slides his hand down Arthur’s crack until the dry pad of his middle finger is ghosting over Arthur’s hole. Arthur shivers at the touch, arching away from it before settling again. 

 

Eames lets his finger drag over Arthur’s entrance, knowing how hot and tight it is inside and wanting nothing more than to slide into it. But this is Arthur’s scene to direct and he knows it’s meant to challenge his own boundaries, as well.

 

Arthur hums softly, rocking his hips gently. His eyes are closed, like he’s trying to focus only on the one small point of contact, and as Eames watches, his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, leaving a wet trail behind it.

 

“How’s that?” Eames asks.

 

“Soft,” Arthur smiles. “Gentle. Teasing. S’good.”

 

Arthur stills his movement, the tip of Eames’ finger poised perfectly at the center of his hole. He drops a little, forcing the tip of the finger inside.

 

“Arthur,” Eames warns.

 

“It’s okay, it’s good. Just, I want to feel it for a bit.” Arthur’s eyes are squeezed tight and he drops himself a little more, until the finger is in to the first knuckle. 

 

“That’s enough now,” Eames makes to pull out and Arthur clenches around him.

 

“You said you were just a tool.” Arthur opens his eyes and stares down into Eames’ face. “I won’t let you hurt me, we’ve done one finger dry before.”

 

Eames wants to pull out, to turn Arthur over his knee and spank him silly for even trying to do something that might damage himself. But he’s right, and they have done this before. Arthur enjoys a bit of pain with his pleasure, and Eames worries if he doesn’t get it, he may not enjoy these challenges as much as he should. It is about testing him, after all.

 

“Please, Daddy,” Arthur whispers, kissing Eames’ cheek.

 

Eames sighs. “Tell Daddy what to do.”

 

Arthur clenches again and grins. “Just hold still.”

 

He goes incredibly slow, sinking down around Eames a quarter inch at a time, bearing down and grunting his way through it until his ass is cradled in the palm of Eames’ hand.

 

“Ahh,” Arthur breathes, pressing his forehead to Eames’ shoulder.

 

“Good?”

 

“So good,” Arthur agrees, rocking his hips and gasping. “God, so good.”

 

Eames grits his teeth against the pull as Arthur fucks himself slowly, carefully on his finger, the velvet smooth clutch of his hole so much more intense without any lube slicking the way. He wonders, suddenly, if this is something they should work towards. If, with enough patience, he could get three fingers into Arthur without any lube. If he could fuck him dry. He’d no doubt have to tie him down, Arthur’s a thrasher at the best of times, and it would be too easy for him to hurt himself.

 

Arthur’s panting against Eames’ shoulder while he tightens and relaxes around the finger, testing the different sensations.

 

“Okay, I need more.” Arthur braces himself and slowly stands, his breath stuttering as the finger slides out of him, catching on every fold of tissue inside of him.

 

He stops to breathe for a moment, abs heaving as he supports himself with his knees bent. His feet are mostly likely still sore from yesterday, but he doesn’t complain, just growls for lube and waits while Eames liberally coats his fingers.

 

“One at a time?” Eames asks.

 

Arthur nods, taking a deep breath and lowering himself again, wiggling his bottom so Eames leaves a trail of slick around his hole. He shivers and huffs out a little laugh.

 

“That feels different when you do it.” He fingers flex against his elbows and he closes his eyes again. He sinks a little lower, rubbing himself against Eames’ finger while it slides from his crack, over his hole, breaching him just a little, then to the smooth spot behind his balls. “Ahh,” Arthur pants and does it again, letting the finger sink in a little more on each pass. 

 

Just as Eames passes over his hole again, Arthur’s foot slips against the hardwood and he sits down hard, the finger spearing him until Eames feels like his whole hand is going to be swallowed up by the heat of Arthur.

 

“Fuuuuck!” Arthur groans, barely pausing before he’s rocking again. “God, yes.”

 

“That’s it, my boy, take from Daddy.” Eames wants to wrap his free arm around Arthur’s waist, to help him keep steady while he screws himself down on Eames’ other hand, but he can’t, so instead he grips the bottom of his seat, keeping himself from temptation.

 

Arthur’s hot and tight, and Eames groans every time Arthur lets him slip out just to feel him sink all the way back in again. On the next rise Arthur holds himself still, so that just the tip is inside. He presses a kiss to the curve of Eames’ ear, his breath coming hot and fast.

 

“More, please.”

 

Eames slides his index finger alongside the middle one, keeping them straight as Arthur slides back down. He’s barely all the way in before Arthur’s dragging him out again, his inner walls clutching at Eames’ fingers, clenching around him and pulling him back in like Arthur is lost without some part of Eames inside of him.

 

Arthur circles his hips, arching his back at the stretch and nearly sending himself tumbling to the floor. Eames almost reaches out to catch him, but Arthur’s reflexes truly are a thing of beauty and he’s righting himself and grinding away before Eames’ hand has a chance to loosen its grip on the bottom of the chair. Arthur grins at him, like he knows that Eames was just about to break his own rule.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Arthur asks, lips already brushing his.

 

“Always, darling.”

 

Arthur tastes of toothpaste and the sweat that Eames licks from his upper lip. His pace doesn’t slow as his tongue plunders Eames’ mouth, demanding and needy like he always is, and in that moment Eames loves him so much it hurts. He wants desperately to keep Arthur here, to keep him safe, and happy, and on the knife’s edge of pleasure, for the rest of their lives.

 

Arthur gasps into his mouth, a jolt going through his whole body as Eames’ fingers bump against his prostate. He grinds down, hitting that spot over and over again until it feels like he’s about to shake apart in Eames’ lap.

 

“Careful, kitten,” Eames says against his cheek. “You still have one finger to go.”

 

“I can do it with two,” Arthur whines, thrusting down hard and shuddering.

 

“The box said three fingers. Coming with just two is failing.”

 

Arthur whimpers, stilling his hips and biting into Eames’ shoulder. “I hate you.”

 

Eames laughs. “God help you if I ever believe you when you say that.”

 

Arthur raises his head and presses his forehead to Eames’. “I love you. I love you so much. I’ll never mean it.”

 

“Shh, I know, pet. Daddy knows.” Eames kisses Arthur’s nose. “Let’s finish you off, yeah?”

 

Arthur nods, straightening with a wince. His core muscles must be burning. His thighs, too, if the tremble in them is anything to go by. Eames is going to baby the hell out of him when this is over.

 

“Give me another, Daddy,” Arthur says, letting Eames slide out of him. He takes a deep breath and lowers himself shakily back down of three fingers. “Ahh, ah, fuck,” He gasps.

 

Eames bites his lips at the feeling of Arthur spreading open around him. He wants to help him along, keep pressing in when Arthur stops to adjust. Hold him open and fuck into him, his cock sliding messily alongside his fingers as Arthur screams and writhes against the assault. His own cock is rock hard and there’s a growing wet spot on his sweatpants. He wants to rub Arthur’s ass all over it until they’re both soping and Arthur is begging Eames to fuck him. He takes a steadying breath and presses his lips together. Soon. He’ll get his due very, very soon, and all this waiting will have been worth it.

 

“Daddy,” Arthur whines, still only about halfway down Eames’ fingers. “Help me.”

 

“I can’t darling. I can add more lube and talk you through it, but you have to finish this yourself.”

 

“Please, Daddy, I can’t.” Arthur’s shaking, his body exhausted from the strain. 

 

“Yes, you can. Arthur, look at me,” Eames waits until Arthur’s eyes flutter open and meet his. “You’re my strong boy. Look at all you’ve done already, darling. You’ve fucked yourself halfway down three fingers without the use of your arms. I know you’re tired, and I know you’re getting desperate, but we are so close.”

 

“It hurts.” Arthur’s lips trembles and Eames latches onto it with his teeth, biting down sharply until Arthur shudders.

 

“You like it when it hurts. It’s not worth it unless you can really feel it. You told me that, love, remember? Now, Daddy wants to see you come all over yourself and then he’s going to take such good care of you, but first, you have to prove to me that you can do this. Can you do this, Arthur?”

 

Arthur nods his head and lets his hips drop, crying out as Eames sinks all the way in. Eames stares at him in wonder as he gasps through the pain of the stretch, rocking back and forth to hurry it along. In under a minute Arthur’s motions speed up and he’s rising an inch or two and slamming back down so hard Eames is having a hard time keeping his hand in place. 

 

His fingers are starting to cramp with how tight Arthur is around him and it’s all he can do not to curl them a little to pet at Arthur’s inner walls. He wants to take his time and map out every inch of Arthur’s ass with the pads of his fingers, use his tongue to get Arthur nice and wet, relishing the musky taste of him as he softens for Eames until he can slide his cock inside and pound away until Arthur’s begging Eames to stop. Then he wants to lick him clean and do it all over again.

 

Arthur moans when he finds his prostate again, his fingers digging into his elbows as he slams himself down, over and over again.

 

“Please, please,” he pants, nearly sobbing with relief when his whole body tenses and he starts to shake and shudder, barely keeping his balance on his toes as he shoots thick streams of come all over Eames’ side. 

 

Eames grunts against the clench of Arthur’s ass. His fingers are nearly numb and it’s killing him not to to thrust through it, but he’s so proud of his boy for doing this on his own. Arthur slumps to the side as soon as his orgams fades, and Eames slips out of him a second before he’s a shivering mess, huddled between Eames’ legs. 

 

“Darling,” Eames starts, letting out a choked laugh when Arthur rears up and shoves his face into Eames’ crotch, trying to pull down the sweatpants with his teeth. “No, kitten, not today.”

 

“Please, please, Daddy,” Arthur pants. “I need you.”

 

“I know, love, but not today.” Eames soothes him, scratching the fingers of his clean hand over Arthur’s scalp. He bends and flexes the other hand as blood rushes back to it.

 

“Why?” Arthur whines, still nuzzling the bulge of Eames’ cock through his pants.

 

“Because that wasn’t in the box. I promise, soon I’ll fill you up so full you’ll feel like you’re going to burst. But right now I need to take care of your arms.” Eames has to force Arthur’s head away. He’s mouthing at Eames like a puppy that smells a treat and it breaks his heart not to give Arthur what he wants. It would be so easy to pull his waistband down a little and slide his cock between Arthur’s lips. He’s exhausted and needy, and Eames could fuck him with abandon, using Arthur’s slack mouth as hard as he wants until he’s choking on Eames’ come. 

 

He stops when he realizes his thumb is about to peel his pants down so he can do just that. Eames shakes himself and stands, pulling Arthur onto the chair so he can free him from the ropes. He rubs Arthur’s shoulder and elbow joints, working heat and feeling back into them slowly while Arthur groans at the stinging pain.

 

“Would you like another bath?” Eames asks, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s temple.

 

Arthur grumbles, shaking his head.

 

“Come now, don’t be grumpy.”

 

“You’re being mean to me,” Arthur pouts.

 

Eames curves his hand around the side of Arthur’s neck, pressing his thumb against his trachea until Arthur stills, his eyes widening.

 

“Daddy is giving you a gift with these boxes, Arthur. You can choose not to accept them, but you will not complain after taking them. Do you understand?”

 

Arthur nods as much as Eames’ grip on him will allow, licking his lips. “Yes, Daddy,” he rasps.

 

“Good. Now, Daddy needs to clean up, and then we can snuggle on the couch and watch a movie, alright?” Eames relaxes his hand, stroking down Arthur’s throat.

 

“Do I have to get dressed?” Arthur asks, eyes shining and a little glazed over.

  
Eames smiles and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “Never, kitten.”


	4. December 28th-Four Creampies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter is filthier than I usually go, and I feel like that says a lot about it. If comeplay squicks you, I'd suggest you skip it. Seriously, there's a lot of come. It's also about the size of the first three chapters combined. That's how much come there is. You've been warned.

Arthur peers into the box and laughs.  “Four, huh? Sure you can manage that, old man?”

 

Eames growls and pulls Arthur into his lap, biting at his neck. “You just wait, little boy. Daddy’s going to make you scream.”

 

“Finally,” Arthur says, squirming.

 

Eames pushes him up and smacks his ass, hard enough to tingle. “Go fetch the wedge.”

 

Arthur hurries down the hall to the bedroom, coming back moments later with the large wedge of foam Eames had made for those times he wants to take Arthur at just the right angle. He selects a silicone based lube from the chest and kicks the box towards Arthur with his foot. 

 

“You didn’t look beneath the card.”

 

Arthur hands him the wedge and crouches down to lift out the card declaring  _ Four Creampies _ . He makes an appreciative sound and holds up a metal plug. There’s a small silver ring at the end, which will allow Eames to twist the plug once it’s inside Arthur.

 

“I think I’m going to like today,” Arthur decides.

 

Eames chuckles. “Don’t get too cocky, pet.” He tosses Arthur the lube and settles back onto the couch, the wedge set up directly in front of him. “Lay down and open yourself up for Daddy.”

 

Arthur strips off his underwear and t-shirt and lays down on his back, so his head is resting on the lower side of the ramp and his ass is angled up towards Eames. Eames stops him with a hand to his ankle and eases a cushion under Arthur’s head. He really needs to either have another section made to support his boy’s neck, or invest in the commercial version of the wedge.

 

“Go on,” Eames instructs once he’s seated again. Arthur wastes no time, slicking up his fingers and sliding the first one in as far as it will go. 

 

“Careful now, we’ve three more to go after this one,” Eames warns.

 

“Still open from yesterday,” Arthur says, his voice tight and a second finger already working it’s way in.

 

“Just think of how you’ll be by the end.” Eames watches him closely, eyes flicking from Arthur’s look of concentration to the fingers disappearing into his hole. It always amazes him how rough Arthur is with himself. When Eames opens him up he has to go slow, coax every bit of looseness out of him in small increments or else Arthur will seize up and get hurt. But when he’s doing it for himself Arthur is ruthlessly quick and focused.

 

“Ah,” Arthur gasps, the tip of his third finger already dipping in and out, testing the stretch.

 

“Jesus, look at you,” Eames breathes. Arthur’s flexibility is to be admired, for sure, but it’s the colour in his cheeks and the softness of his parted lips that draws Eames in. He peels off his own shirt, trousers around his ankles as soon as he stands. He leans over Arthur to pick up the lube and makes sure the plug is within reach. 

 

He pulls Arthur’s fingers out of his ass, adding more slick to them, then wrapping them around his own, jutting cock. He groans at the touch. He’s wanted to fuck Arthur every minute of every day since they started this, and he’s finally going to get his wish. 

 

He turns Arthur over so that his ass is on display, pert and open, and just waiting for Eames. He presses in in one long push, hissing at how tight Arthur still is around him. Arthur makes a strangled noise when Eames pulls out and pushes back in deeper. He’s caught between the wedge and Eames and can neither push back or move away. All he can do it lay there and take it.

 

Eames massages Arthur’s ass cheeks as he thrusts, spreading him wide to watch Arthur pull him in. A dozen strokes in and his balls are already tightening. Arthur’s making soft sounds, his breath hitching every time Eames drives his cock in, and it’s been three days of watching Arthur perform beautifully and not being able to fuck him in thanks. He speeds up, loving when Arthur moans in response.

 

“Yes,” Arthur gasps, reaching back to cover Eames’ hand on his hip. “Daddy.”

 

Eames groans, his orgasm rushing through him like a freight train as he thrusts into Arthur, filling him up with come. He wants to fuck through it, drawing out the sensation of Arthur’s ass clamping down around him, but he needs to stay seated deep so he can keep as much of his spunk in Arthur as possible. Before he pulls out, he covers the plug generously with lube, lining it up beside his cock so he can slip it in quickly. He allows just a small trail of come peek out of Arthur’s hole before sliding it in.

 

Arthur gasps at the cold metal, but Eames stills him with a hand to the small of his back, twisting the plug into place, then twisting once more, just to watch his boy squirm.

 

“Perfect,” Eames declares, his breath still a little short.

 

Arthur frowns at him over his shoulder. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

 

“No, I don’t think so.” Eames grins, running his finger around the rim of the plug.

 

“What about me? Don’t I get to come?”

 

“Oh, you,” Eames chuckles. “No.”

 

“No?” Arthur says, voice rising.

 

“That’s what I said.” Eames gets up and offers Arthur a hand. “Did I forget to mention that?”

 

Arthur climbs slowly to his feet, a look of confusion on his face. “But why not?”

 

Eames takes pity on him and pulls him close. “Because, kitten, if you come with the plug in, you’ll push it out. You know you will. Then all my hard work will be for naught.”

 

“Didn’t seem that hard,” Arthur mutters.

 

Eames slaps him hard on the back of the thigh, the sound loud and bright in the quiet of the apartment. “Don’t be ungrateful. Yesterday I was your tool and today you are mine,” Eames tells him, rubbing the flat of his hand over the mark he’s just left. “You’re going to be Daddy’s to use aren’t you? You’re going to take it, and take it, and keep my come safe and warm inside you until Daddy takes the plug out and watches you leak.” Eames brushes his lips over Arthur’ ear, his fingers pressing into the warm flesh of Arthur’s thigh. “Daddy’s going to fill you up until you’re fit to burst, then I’m going to let it spill down your legs until you’re a filthy mess. And once you’re empty and covered in me, I might let you come.”

 

Arthur is practically vibrating, arms clutching Eames shoulders while he fights the urge to rub his cock against Eames’ stomach.

 

“Now, go get dressed and Daddy will buy you breakfast.”

 

Arthur startles. “What? I have to go out like this?”

 

Eames frowns at him, letting his voice go cold and hard. “Arthur, does Daddy like repeating himself?”

 

“No, Daddy,” Arthur says immediately, lowering his head.

 

“You’re being very ungrateful for the gift Daddy is giving you. If I want to take you to breakfast and then bend you over the table and fuck you until you scream, you will take it and say thank you. If I decide to stop and spank you in the middle of the street because you talk back to me, you will take it and say thank you. And if I decide that I will use you as my personal spunk receptacle and watch you squirm all day without ever getting you off, you will take it and say thank you, Daddy. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur whispers, eyes wide and cock leaking. “Please use me, Daddy. I’ll be good.”

 

Eames runs a finger over the ring on the plug, pressing it in deeper and making Arthur whine. “I know you will, darling. Now, go get dressed. Something pretty for Daddy.”

 

Eames goes into the bathroom for a quick shower and by the time he gets out Arthur has dressed in gray slacks, a grey and black plaid oxford with a black cashmere sweater over top. He’s fussing with the knot of his matching black tie when Eames comes up behind him.

 

“You look beautiful,” he tells Arthur, kissing his neck and reaching around him to open the dresser.

 

“Thank you, Daddy.” Arthur smiles, the tips of his ears turning pink.

 

Eames takes him to their favourite brunch spot down the road. Not only is it conveniently located, it offers bar height tables and chairs so Arthur won’t look odd when he stands to eat. Eames smirks at him when he attempts to rest one cheek on the seat and lets out a choked sob when he sits on the ring and jostles the plug.

 

“The ring is for my convenience, not yours,” Eames tells him with a smile.

 

Arthur nods and stands through the remainder of their meal. Eames helps him into his coat after he pays, letting his hand drift down to smooth over Arthur’s ass.

 

“Still comfy? Or do we need to stop and add more lube?”

 

“No, I’m fine,” Arthur insists. “Thank you, though.”

 

Eames takes his hand, kissing his knuckles before leading him down the block. “My intention isn’t to harm you, darling. You have to let me know if you’re uncomfortable. Daddy’s going to fuck you either way, but I’d rather you not be in pain while I do it.”

 

Arthur snorts. “Such a gentleman.”

 

“Always.” Eames nods to a passerby and leads Arthur further into town. They’re in that strange lull between Christmas and New Year’s where no one quite knows what they’re supposed to be doing. Anyone still off from work is hungover from the shopping frenzy that occurs before the twenty-fifth, but not quite ready for stock up for the revelry of the thirty-first. 

 

The result is people walking around in a zombie-like state, lost in a limbo of indecision. It suits Eames’ purposes, however, because the boutique clothing shop he takes Arthur into is nearly empty and the employees are just as disinterested as the customers milling about. 

 

He picks out a few things for Arthur to try and asks for a change room. His boy is quiet beside him, but Eames can sense his anticipation. The dressing rooms are small, but comfortable, a wide, full length mirror along one wall and the short chaise along the other. Arthur smirks as he disrobes, but Eames simply sits and takes out his phone, scrolling through his email until Arthur’s made his way through the shirts. When he looks up again, Arthur is furious at the lack of attention.

 

Eames stands and unbuttons his coat, Arthur watching closely as he pulls the bottle of lube from the pocket and hangs the coat on the back of the door, double checking the lock. Eames presses his finger to his lips and Arthur nods eagerly. He motions towards the stack of trousers and then to Arthur, indicating that he wants Arthur to try them on. Arthur hurries to comply while Eames sits back down on the chaise.

 

Just as he’s about to drop his pants, Eames stops him, turning Arthur to face the mirror. He helps Arthur step out of them, catching his eye in the mirror and grinning. Eames hands Arthur the first pair of trousers and his breath catches when Arthur bends over to slip them on. He’s not wearing underwear and the ring of the plug is gleaming between his cleft and Eames has to lean forward and rub his stubble over the soft expanse of Arthur’s ass cheek.

 

Arthur lets out a slow breath and pulls the pants up, fastening them and studying his reflection in the mirror. Eames smoothes his hands over the fabric, down Arthur’s thighs, then back up over his ass, fingers dancing over the ring. Arthur’s breath stutters and Eames goes hard. He clasps the pants and eases them down Arthur’s legs, handing him another pair once the first are off. He lets Arthur take over, undoing his own zipper and fisting his cock as his lovely boy bends over for him, again and again, the metal of the plug a delightful tease each time.

 

When Arthur’s on the last pair, Eames snaps open the lube. He spreads it over his cock with one hand and pulls Arthur closer by the hip with the other. He runs his palm up Arthur’s back, bending him forwards until he’s braced on the mirror, his breath fogging up the glass as he waits for Eames to take him apart. 

 

Eames removes the plug carefully, mindful of any spills, while Arthur lets out a low whine. Eames shushes him and slips his thumb inside Arthur quickly, stopping him up. He pulls Artur into his lap, lining up his cock and slowly sliding it in alongside his thumb so he can appreciate the way Arthur opens up to let him in. He’s bigger than the plug, and it means he will enjoy stretching Arthur a little every time he fucks him today. 

 

He removes his thumb once he’s in a few inches, and Arthur takes him deeper with a grunt. Eames shushes him again, curling his hands around Arthur’s thighs and lifting them so they dangle over the outside of Eames’ and Arthur has no choice but to sink down further on Eames’ cock. Arthur plants his hands on Eames’ knees and rocks his hips, closing his eyes and swearing softly. Eames slaps his hand over Arthur’s mouth as he guides his movements, pushing Arthur up on his toes so he can bounce a little in Eames’ lap. 

 

He’s so fucking wet Eames has to actively think of something other than the hot clutch of Arthur’s ass as he thrusts into him or he’ll come too soon. He needs to work Arthur up a little more, make him want it just as bad before Eames comes deep inside him and plugs him back up. He wants his baby boy desperate and begging for Eames to let him come. 

 

Arthur’s tongue licks his palm at the same time that he falls forward, bracing his arms on the mirror and shoving back against Eames, fucking himself so hard that all Eames has to do is sit back and watch. He slides two fingers into Arthur’s mouth and spreads his legs wider, forcing Arthur to only use his arms for leverage. 

 

Arthur’s teeth sink into his fingers and Eames bites back a groan. Arthur speeds up, slamming himself back against Eames, the sound of their bodies meeting loud and unmistakable to anyone outside the dressing room. Eames doesn’t care, and he knows Arthur wants them to hear. Arthur always wants to scream it from the rooftops when Eames is fucking him, just so he can burn with humiliation when he sees the neighbours in the hall. He’s a complex little kitten, and Eames loves him dearly.

 

Sweat is beading on the small of Arthur’s back and Eames watches as a drop breaks free and curves down to his crack, disappearing as it finds where Arthur’s taking him in. His hole is red, stretched wide to accommodate Eames’s girth as he sinks in over and over. His cock when it slides out is a mess of lube and come and he can’t wait to bury himself deep within Arthur once more, adding to the small treasure he’s left there already. He promised once, all those months ago, to fill Arthur until he was leaking. To empty his cock down his throat, and up his ass until he’s bursting with Eames’ come. He wonders if Arthur remembers that. 

 

Eames’ orgasm hits suddenly and he has to fumble to get Arthur to still, to sit quietly as he unloads, his body quaking against the need to shout himself hoarse. Arthur’s clenching rhythmically around him, milking him of every last drop. Eames digs his fingers into Arthur’s thigh to get him stop so he can pull out and get the plug in. Arthur pats his hand and brings his legs together between Eames’, slowly bending forward until his hands are touching the floor and his back is in a lovely curve. 

 

Eames is distracted for a moment, wondering if fucking Arthur like that would hurt him, then Arthur makes an impatient noise and Eames gets clumsily to his feet, pressing his hips hard against Arthur to keep them together. He hasn’t added lube to the plug yet and he can’t put it back in until he does so he fumbles with slippery fingers, recoating the metal and almost dropping it in the process. He needs a minute to compose himself, but he’s softening quickly and if he doesn’t get the plug in he’s going to fail Arthur. 

 

Long fingers curl around his ankle and he calms immediately. Arthur’s head is down, but just knowing his boy is right there with him is settling enough to get his cock out and the plug in. He doesn’t pause to play, knowing they don’t have much longer before the clerk loses her patience.

 

Arthur straightens slowly, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt is wrinkled and there’s a smear of lube on his thigh, but he looks sated and happy, pressing a sloppy kiss to Eames’ cheek before pulling on his trousers. Eames helps him with his sweater, chucking when Arthur pulls out a handkerchief and wipes Eames clean. He folds it carefully and puts it back in his pocket, humming softly. Eames shakes his head in wonder as he puts himself back together. Sometimes he’s still surprised at what will send Arthur into his subspace. One day Eames will have to raise welts an inch thick across half of Arthur’s body before he stops fighting it and slips into bliss. Other days, a kind word and a strong hand will have him falling to his knees, ready to purr and keen for attention. If nothing else, Eames knows he’ll never get bored.

 

Eames picks up Arthur’s tie and grabs one of the ties he picked out, slipping off the price tag and fastening one end of it to Arthur’s tie with a tight knot, about a third of the way in. He winds one end around Arthur’s right wrist, cinching tight enough that the silk is biting into Arthur’s skin. Arthur shivers and slumps against the door of the dressing room. The other wrist gets the same treatment, then Eames helps him into his jacket, doing the buttons up one by one and kissing Arthur chastely on the lips.

 

“Such a good boy,” Eames murmurs, bringing Arthur’s hands together in front of him, knowing he’ll be able to feel the pull of his restraints.

 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Arthur slurs.

 

Eames ends up buying everything they tried on, the clerk smirking knowingly and Arthur standing docile at his side, cheeks burning. Once he’s paid, Eames slides a hundred dollar bill to the clerk with a wink and leads Arthur out of the store.

 

By the time they’re halfway home Arthur’s rousing from his stupor and pulling at the ties. When he starts to grumble, Eames pulls him into the alcove of a closed store and backs him against the door.

 

“You were so perfect in there, pet,” Eames tells him, cupping his hand over Arthur’s groin.

 

“Fuck.” Arthur’s head hits the door with a thud and he arches into Eames’ hand, his cock growing harder as Eames palms him.

 

“You kept so quiet while you fucked yourself on Daddy. Did you like that? Knowing that anyone who walked by would know what we were doing in there? Having to face the clerk after spreading yourself wide open for me?” Eames rubs faster, fingers massaging Arthur’s length.

 

“I like coming,” Arthur spits. “I need to fucking come.”

 

Eames takes his hand away, shoving Arthur in the sternum, hard enough that his head hits the glass of the door again. “I say when you come. Is that clear? Daddy is in control today, darling boy, and Daddy has two more tithes to take out on your ass, doesn’t he? You’re not quite fit to burst yet and I want it seeping out of you when I push in that final time.”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur says through clenched teeth, his eyes dark.

 

“Good, now lead the way home before I move those ties to your neck and pull you along like a disobedient puppy.” Eames steps back and Arthur moves past with a jerk.

 

By the time they get to their block Arthur is kicking at stones in his path. Eames lets them into the building and shoves Arthur towards the stairs.

 

“You, walk up. Burn off some of that attitude.”

 

“You’re not coming with me?” Arthur asks, a note of uncertainty seeping into his voice.

 

“No, I’m going to take the elevator. I’m an old man, after all, right? I need to conserve my energy.” Eames stabs at the button for the elevator, turning so Arthur’s not in his direct line of sight. Once he’s inside he waits to press the button for their floor until he hears the door to the stairwell open and slam shut. He’s already deposited the bags on the couch by the time Arthur makes it to the door, cheeks pink and breath a little heavy.

 

Eames grabs a set of restraints from the chest. They’re made from polyester webbing and Arthur hates them. Eames unbuttons Arthur’s coat in rough movements and strips him quickly, leaving sweater and oxford in a bunch on the line of ties. He cuts away the silk, ignoring Arthur’s squawk of protest and replaces them with the new restraints, pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. 

 

Arthur jerks away from Eames’ touch, pulling at the restraints, which are shorter and much more secure than the ties were. 

 

Eames turns on the shower and points to the tile beside the bathmat. “Sit.”

 

Arthur glares, but he sinks to his knees on the cold floor, hands bound in his lap. Eames peels off his clothes and drops them in the hamper, ignoring Arthur as he climbs over the lip of the tub and closes the curtain. The spray is strong and hot, and it soothes him as he washes away the sweat and lube that’s built up over the morning. He can feel Arthur’s eyes on him as he washes his hair, sticking his head under the spray to rinse. When he’s done washing and has calmed down some, he wipes a hand over his face and looks down at where Arthur is peeking at him around the edge of the curtain.

 

“Get in here,” he orders, not moving aside to make room. 

 

Arthur braces himself with his hands while he climbs into the tub, still on his knees. Eames averts the spray and crouches in front of him.

 

“You will clean yourself and then come find Daddy. If you touch the plug, I will know. You wash only with water, no soap. Do you understand?” Eames asks, his voice hard.

 

Arthur nods his head sharply. Eames clenches his jaw and places his foot over Arthur’s crotch, feeling the fragile skin of his cock under his toes. He exerts enough pressure to make Arthur wince, then adds a little more.

 

“You’re testing my patience, Arthur. Daddy is working very hard to help you through these challenges and you’re being a brat. We have a lot on our plate and now Daddy has to stop and punish you. So, you will wash yourself with water, on your knees, and then you will come find me. No towel, no clothing. Is that clear?” 

 

Arthur glares at him, his face going red with the effort not to squirm under Eames’ foot. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

“Good.” Eames steps back and adjusts the spray so it’s hitting Arthur, then gets out of the shower. He hears Arthur muttering under his breath so he reaches back in to turn the hot water down a half a rotation. Arthur gives a small shriek and Eames smiles, grabbing his towel and heading into the bedroom. 

 

Three minutes later, the shower shuts off and he hears Arthur slump over the tub. He’s wet and shivering as he crawls into the bedroom, a trail of water marking his path. Eames is sprawled on the side of the bed, naked and moist, his legs spread wide. He’s not hard, but seeing Arthur’s teeth chatter as he crawls towards him is stirring up all the right sensations. 

 

“All clean?”

 

Arthur presses his lips together and nods, coming to a stop in front of Eames.

 

“Arthur, I asked you a question.”

 

Arthur glares, but it’s weakened by his shivering. “I’m t-t-too fu-fucking cold to ans-swer!”

 

“Aw, kitten, did you not like your cold bath? That’s a shame.” Eames smirks at him, patting his knee. Arthur shuffles forward further to lay his head down. “You could have had a nice, warm shower, could have enjoyed my hands all over your body, making you clean again, maybe making you come. But you decided to pick a fight instead.”

 

“I w-w-want t-to come!” Arthur leans into Eames, seeking out his warmth.

 

Eames grabs him by the hair and pulls him away. “I’m not explaining myself to you again, Arthur. You want to come, you do as I say. End of story.”

 

“F-fine!”

 

Eames tugs sharply at his hair, making him wince. 

 

“Yes, D-d-daddy!”

 

“That’s better. Now, Daddy’s fucked you twice and we’re halfway home. You need to warm up, and I’ve got just the thing to help you along. Suck Daddy’s cock until he’s hard, then I’ll let you crawl under the covers before I roger you.” Eames rubs his thumb over Arthur’s scalp, making him groan. “How does that sound, kitten?”

 

“D-delicious,” Arthur says, lunging forward and taking Eames soft cock on his tongue. He moans around the length, and though he’s a little sensitive, Eames enjoys the vibrations it causes.

 

“Nice and slow, that’s it.” Eames smooths Arthur hair back, sending cold droplets of water cascading down his back and making his shoulders bunch up. 

 

Arthur’s hands are clasped to his chest, the restraints no doubt chafing his skin, but this is still technically a punishment, and Eames knows he can’t give even an inch or Arthur will suffer in the long run. He trusts Eames to see him through, depends on him to keep him in line, and Eames has no intention of letting him down.

 

Arthur’s lapping at his cock, every once in awhile suckling at the wrinkled skin, trying to coax it into hardening. Eames isn’t worried about getting it up again, he’s always been fortunate in that regard, but Arthur knows he needs to give some extra attention if he wants to be under those covers anytime soon.

 

Eames checks the clock. It’s two forty-three and they’ll definitely have time for a nap before the last round. Maybe he’ll keep Arthur in bed the rest of the day, fucking him through the last time, then ruining the sheets when he finally lets him come. His dick twitches at the thought of eating Arthur out after he comes. Tasting himself mixed with Arthur’s sweet musk, licking every last drop out of his ass in thanks for carrying it with him all day long.

 

Arthur moans again as Eames starts to harden, wiggling his tongue under the foreskin and making Eames jump.

 

“Careful,” Eames tells him, rubbing his hands down Arthur’s back to warm him. He’s still shivering, but it’s getting less and less violent as he swallows Eames down.

 

Arthur’s fingers curl under Eames’ balls, stroking and coaxing more of a reaction out of him, and Eames goes fully hard.

 

“Clever boy,” he chuckles, cupping his hand around the back of Arthur’s head and encouraging him to take it deeper.

 

The head of his cock slips into Arthur’s throat, cutting off his air supply. Arthur stills, swallowing carefully around Eames before pulling back and taking a breath. He does it three more times, each one careful and measured, and by then Eames is ready so he pulls Arthur off and up, wrapping his legs around him and kissing him soundly.

 

“You are brilliant at that,” Eames tells him, hands still running over Arthur’s back.

 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Arthur rasps, eyes fluttering when Eames spreads his cheeks.

 

“Under the covers, on your stomach.”

 

Arthur hurries to comply, practically melting against the sheets. Eames lays down carefully on top of him, mindful of Arthur’s arms pinned to underneath him in the restraints. He pulls the comforter over them both until it’s dark and all he can feel is Arthur beneath him and rocks gently, his cock slipping between Arthur’s cheeks and nudging against the ring.

 

“You still can’t come,” Eames whispers in his ear. “But I promise you will before the day is through.”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur says, breath hitching when Eames hits the ring again.

 

“What happens now, pet? Tell Daddy what you want him to do.”

 

“Fuck, just warm me up.” Arthur squirms against the bed and Eames chuckles.

 

“Language,” he scolds, thrusting harder then moving down Arthur’s body. He’d had the foresight to stash a bottle of lube in the bed before Arthur finished his shower, and he searches for it now, finding it near the bottom. He also grabbed one of the headlamps they keep in the emergency supplies and he puts it on so he can see without making Arthur come out from under the covers.

 

“Spoiled rotten,” he mutters and switches the light on, Arthur’s spread legs and luscious ass greeting him. He can tell Arthur’s trying desperately not to rub off against the sheets so he spreads his legs wider, opening him up for Eames’ viewing pleasure. He twists the plug to the right, nearly getting kicked in the face when Arthur bucks up. 

 

Eames grins and does it again, pinning Arthur’s leg to the mattress with his other arm. Arthur lets out a strangled cry when the blunt tip presses against his prostate. Eames pulls the plug out a little, noting how wedged in it is. He’ll need to add a lot more lube to keep Arthur comfortable, and maybe keep him stationary to ensure it doesn’t slip out before their last time. His hole is red and puffy, both from wearing the plug half the day and from Eames’ rough handling. 

 

He adds some more lube around the inch or so he’s pulled out, then slides it back in, pushing it right up against Arthur and making him swear loudly.

 

“Language, darling,” Eames says, punctuating the admonishment with a firm bite to Arthur’s thigh. His marks from the first day are starting to fade and Eames thinks he should have photographed them for posterity.

 

He tugs the plug out again, this time just resting the tip inside Arthur’s stretched hole. It takes a moment, but soon his come starts to pool against the plug, thick and sticky as he uses the plug to push it back in. Arthur moans above him, clenching around the intrusion, and more come seeps out. 

 

“Careful or we’ll have a mess down here and we’ll have to start all over again.”

 

Arthur grumbles, but relaxes, his toes rubbing against Eames’ arm. Eames lays the plug aside, pressing the tips of two fingers into Arthur while he gets to his knees, jostling the duvet and laughing when Arthur protests the loss of his cocoon. He pulls off the headlamp and tosses it aside, thrusting his fingers slowly, watching as the come slides past the rim before he presses it back in. He’s marked Arthur a hundred different ways in the time they’ve been together, but this, filling him with his seed and watching it dribble out on him, feels like the ultimate act of possession. He can’t plant himself deep enough inside Arthur to alter his biology, so this is as close as he’ll ever get to claiming him from the inside out.

 

Arthur sighs when Eames finally slides his cock in. He’s soft and open around Eames; what little resistance there is, quickly giving way so Eames can lay himself over Arthur, pressing him into the mattress with his bulk as he fucks into him, slow and deep, beneath the covers.

 

“So good, darling,” Eames whispers, curling his arms under Arthur’s shoulders to hold him close and use him as leverage. “You’re so good for Daddy.”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur breathes, turning his head for a kiss. It’s sloppy and wet, but Arthur’s greedy for the affection and he whines when Eames pulls away.

 

“You opened up so wide for Daddy,” Eames says against Arthur’s cheek. “Split like ripe fruit.”

 

Arthur bears down, letting Eames sink in deeper. “Please, Daddy.”

 

“What, love? What does my boy need?”

 

“You,” Arthur pants, holding himself still, letting Eames control every slide his cock against the sheets. “Fuck me. Fill me up, Daddy, I need it.”

 

“Do you?” Eames asks, thrusting harder. He didn’t add any lube and knowing the slick that’s easing his way is the come Arthur’s been holding is heady and it makes him want to pound into Arthur until he’s a filthy, quivering mess. But he pulls back, lengthening and slowing his strokes because his boy has been so good today, and he deserves a little pampering.

 

“Yessss,” Arthur groans, fingers curling in the sheets. “I want you with me always. I want you inside me and on my skin. I want others to look at me and know who I belong to. I want them to say ‘That’s Eames’ boy. No one better touch him’.”

 

Eames has to stop, pressing his forehead to Arthur’s shoulder, throat tight.

 

“Daddy?” Arthur asks, body tights as a bow string beneath him.

 

Eames lets out a shaky breath. There are things he wants to say, declarations he needs to make, but this is neither the time, nor the place for them. He rolls his hips, fucking deep into Arthur and carefully packing away all the words that want to spill from his lips. He’ll save them. Bring them out when this is all done and he’s certain of Arthur’s devotion to him. Certain in his own ability to take care of the precious body beneath him.

 

Arthur squirms, raising his hips to meet Eames’ hastening thrusts, a strangled cry ripping out of him when the change in angle has Eames hitting his prostate on every thrust. He has to be careful now or Arthur will come just from that and they’ll both be disappointed. It’s too warm now under the covers, but Eames can’t stop to throw off the blanket. 

 

“Daddy,” he keens when Eames speeds up again, his cock dragging in and out of Arthur, hard and heavy, the sound of come slicking the way obscene when he slams back in. Eames focuses on that, on what Arthur’s hole looks like every time it opens up around him, his smooth walls drenched in spunk as Eames burrows himself deep inside, eager to add more to the mix.

 

Warmth spreads through his body and he clamps down on one of the marks from the first day, sinking his teeth into the healing crescent of the bite and sucking hard. Arthur whines and his ass squeezes Eames, tight and insistent, and just enough to send Eames barrelling over the edge.

 

He growls around Arthur’s flesh as he comes, his cock throbbing and on the verge of painful as he dumps his seed into Arthur’s welcoming hole. Arthur purrs through it, keeping his ass angled up so Eames can pull out easily once he’s done. Eames eases his mouth from Arthur’s shoulder, licking over the purpling mark he’s left. Arthur shudders, pulling one last spasm from Eames and making him groan.

 

“You’ll be the death of me,” Eames rasps, rubbing his stubbled cheek over the mark.

 

Arthur hums in agreement. “But what a way to go.”

 

Eames laughs, quickly getting to his knees when he almost slips out. He adds lube to the plug and eases it back it, wincing at Arthur’s hiss of pain.

 

“Almost there, love,” Eames tells him, kissing his way up Arthur’s spine.

 

“S’fine,” Arthur slurs, rolling onto his side, his arms still bound and held against his chest. “I’m good.”

 

“You’re more than good, kitten, you’re perfection.” Eames lays down beside him, finally pushing the duvet down to get some welcomed cool air. 

 

Arthur shivers and burrows back under the covers, groaning when his hard cock slides against the sheets. Eames rolls him onto his back with a grunt, wrapping his fingers around the base of Arthur’s cock and squeezing tight. Arthur gasps, then whines when Eames increases the pressure.

 

“Soon,” Eames promises, throwing his leg over Arthur’s lower half. “Sleep now, darling. And when you wake, we’ll move mountains.”

 

By the time Arthur rolls out of bed a few hours later, Eames is at his desk, looking over the latest notes from his editor. Arthur shuffles into his office, robe hanging loose over his shoulders and rubbing his eye with the heel of his bound hand. Eame smiles warmly, closing his laptop and standing to pull Arthur into his arms. 

 

“Did you sleep?” Arthur asks, laying his head on Eames’ shoulder.

 

“Enough. I had some work to finish up and I didn’t want to wake you.” 

 

“Why am I always the tired one? You exert way more energy than I do.”

 

“I feed off your youthful exuberance,” Eames teases, swaying Arthur back and forth.

 

Arthur laughs, his fingers brushing against Eames’ chest and Eames wants to stay in the moment forever. But the rice is almost finished, and Arthur’s shuffling like he has to pee so Eames lets him go with a small kiss and Arthur wanders back the way he came. When Arthur comes back he’s lost the robe, but he holds his arms out in front of him.

 

“They’re chafing.”

 

Eames frowns and carefully removes the restraints, rubbing his thumbs over Arthur’s creased skin. There are a few spots where the wet material has left red marks along Arthur’s wrists and arms. Eames kisses each one in apology.

 

“Do you want dinner? I can whip something up,” Eames asks, still examining Arthur’s arms.

 

Arthur answers by crawling into Eames’ lap and kissing him, arms winding around Eames shoulders while he wriggles. Eames makes an amused sound, pulling Arthur closer and letting his fingers wander down to the plug. Arthur jolts when it’s touched, but he doesn’t break the kiss.

 

Eames pulls back, narrowing his eyes. “Getting too sensitive?”

 

“I’m fine,” Arthur says, trying to kiss Eames again.

 

“Tell the truth, pet. There’s no use lying to me.”

 

Arthur sighs. “It’s just the plug. I think it’s a little dry. It still feels good when you fuck me, though.”

 

“Hmm, I should do that then? Is that what you’re saying?” Eames smiles, kissing him.

 

“Mmm, yes please, Daddy.” Arthur arches his neck so Eames can bite his way down to his clavicle.

 

“Say it again, love. Let me hear you beg a little.”

 

Arthur rolls his hips, his cock rubbing against Eames’ t- shirt. He leans over Eames, taking his earlobe in his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. “Please, Daddy,” he breathes, voice low and soft. “Fuck me, Daddy. Fill me up with your come. I want you to fuck me until I scream and wring every last drop out of you.”

 

“And then what?” Eames asks, encouraging Arthur to keep moving, his own cock starting to take interest in the things Arthur’s deep voice is describing.

 

“Whatever you want. I’m your good boy, you know I’ll let you do anything. Do you want to fuck me standing up so you can hear it hit the floor when you pull out? You could pin my knees to my chest and film me leaking you all down my crack, or you could fuck me right here, just like this, so you can feel it drip onto your balls when I just can’t hold anymore.” Arthur’s panting, his cock leaving a wet spot on Eames’ shirt.

 

Eames chuckles darkly. “You’ve given this some thought, kitten.”

 

“Of course I have, it’s all I’ve thought about all day,” Arthur groans.

 

“And which is your favourite? What does Arthur want?”

 

“This isn’t about what I want. Today I’m Daddy’s toy.”

 

“And Daddy wants to know how his toy wants to be used. I just want to make a mess of you, darling, you’ve been an angel today so you chose.” Eames runs a finger down Arthur’s cleft, careful not to touch the ring of the plug.

 

“Th-this,” Arthur stammers, grinding into Eames’ stomach. “This way we both get dirty.”

 

Eames laughs, kissing Arthur again. “You’ll have to get up so I can get undressed and fetch the lube, then.”

 

“No,” Arthur pouts, pulling Eames’ shirt up and off. “I can’t wait any longer.”

 

“I can’t very well fuck you with my joggers on,” Eames points out.

 

“Fine, but no lube. I can take you without and once your pants are off I need you inside me.”

 

“Alright, darling, alright.” He eases Arthur off him, fighting to get a hand between them so he can push down his sweatpants. Arthur’s plastered himself all along his front, and his waistband catches Arthur’s cock, making him groan.

 

Eames backs up, pulling Arthur along to the leather couch. It’ll stick to his ass, but at least the clean up will be easier than on the fabric of his desk chair. Arthur clambers on top of him as soon as he’s seated, sitting high on his knees with his ass out, waiting for Eames to take out the plug.

 

“Patience, kitten,” Eames says, urging Arthur back down into his lap. “Daddy’s not quite ready yet.”

 

“Hurry up,” Arthur growls, practically vibrating with need.

 

Eames grabs him by the hair and kisses him hard, his teeth blunt on the soft skin of Arthur’s lip. He plunders Arthur’s mouth, his tongue fucking into his mouth while Arthur goes pliant and opens wide, letting Eames control the kiss. He gets his hand around Arthur’s cock, not stroking, just hold it and laughing when Arthur keens.

 

“Tell Daddy a secret,” Eames says, kissing across Arthur’s cheek to his ear. “Something Daddy doesn’t know.”

 

“There’s nothing you don’t know,” Arthur pants, sending a jolt of desire through Eames.

 

“There has to be something. You’re not that simple, Arthur. What’s one desire you’ve never shared with me?”

 

“I, I don’t-”

 

“Daddy won’t be mad. I want to know,” Eames promises, tugging gently on Arthur’s hair.

 

Arthur worries his bottom lip, his gaze flitting between Eames’ face and his chest. “I-I want to rim you.”

 

Eames beams at him. “Tell me all about it, petal.”

 

Arthur flushes, gasping when Eames squeezes his cock in encouragement. “I want you to make me do it. Hold my head down while I eat you out.”

 

“God, yes,” Eames groans, his cock thickening at the thought of Arthur’s between his legs, lapping at his asshole.

 

“Not here, though,” Arthur says, emboldened by Eames’ reaction. “I want it out there, like we did in the dressing room today.”

 

“As a punishment, maybe,” Eames guesses, reaching down to grab hold of the plug.

 

“Yes,” Arthur gasps, eyes going wide. He winces a little when Eames starts to ease it out.

 

“Maybe at one of your fancy office parties,” Eames suggests, dragging the plug out slowly, letting go of Arthur’s cock to line himself up. “When I’ve given you specific parameters to behave by, and you’ve had a little too much champagne and slip up.” The plug comes out and Eames presses in, watching Arthur as his eyelids flutter shut.

 

“Yesss,” he hisses, opening up beautifully around the head of Eames’ cock.

 

“I’d drag you into your office, taking you away in front of everyone.” Eames thrusts up, sliding in slowly. “And they’d all know, wouldn’t they? They’d all know you were about to be punished. I bet you’d be hard before we even got the door closed.”

 

Arthur whimpers and pushes back, taking Eames all the way in. “I’d think I was going to get spanked. I know how much you like to do that when we’re around other people. You like it when I can’t sit down or when I have to limp a little.”

 

“I do, I do,” Eames bites his bottom lip, pulling out and sinking back in with a wet smack. “But instead I’d drop my trousers and bend myself over your desk.”

 

“And I’d get on my knees and spread you open,” Arthur takes over, eyes closed as Eames fucks him slowly. “I bet you’re so tight.”

 

“How tight, darling?” Eames speeds up, feeling spunk seeping out every time he presses in. It’s trailing over his balls, tickling him, and he wants to see what happens when Arthur comes around him.

 

“God, so fucking tight,” Arthur says, crying out when Eames takes him in hand and gives him a good, long stroke. “I’d have to get you absolutely soaking with my tongue before I could even try to press inside.”

 

“Hmm, would you fuck me with your tongue, kitten?”

 

Arthur grins shyly, rolling his hips down to meet Eames’ thrusts. “I’d lap at you like a bowl of milk.”

 

Eames huffs out a laugh, pulling him down for a kiss. They stay like that, bodies moving slowly, lips meeting again and again until Arthur’s cock throbs in Eames’ hand and he groans.

 

“I’m close,” Arthur whispers into Eames’ mouth.

 

“Come for me, love. You’ve earned it.”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur pants. “I have.”

 

Eames laughs and Arthur comes, squeezing around his cock like a vice, his nails digging into Eames’ shoulders as his body convulses and he shoots all over Eames’ hand and stomach. It goes on and on, Arthur’s mouth dropping open and spunk being forced out of his ass as spasm after spasm rolls through his body. Eames presses Arthur onto his back the second he starts to go limp, pressing in deep to keep them together, then fucking into him, fast and hard once he’s got Arthur’s knees spread wide and hooked over his elbows. Eames looks down, watching his cock pound into Arthur in a mess of come and leftover lube, the milky white covering them both. It’s filthy and wet, and he wants to bathe Arthur in it.

 

“Daddy,” Arthur whines, clawing at Eames’ chest.

 

“Almost there, pet.” Eames gets out, switching to shorter, faster strokes that squeeze out more come. His cock is coated, as are Arthur’s balls and Arthur was right, he wants to take a picture.

 

“Fill me, Daddy.”

 

Eames grunts and leans over Arthur, bending him in two until he can feel Arthur’s breath on his face. He slams his hips forward, going up on his toes for leverage. Arthur smiles and then, finally, he’s coming, his whole body feeling like it’s going to shake apart with the force of it. There can’t be much left to empty into Arthur, but it’s warm and wet, and Eames clenches his teeth against the rawness he feels as he fucks deeper, willing it to stay inside his boy.

 

His hands are shaking when he pulls back, and Arthur pulls them to his mouth, kissing the tips of his fingers one at a time.

 

“Thank you, Daddy,” he rasps, laying back against the couch.

 

Eames nods, trailing his hand down Arthur’s torso. “Ready?”

 

Arthur grins. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

Eames pulls out, his cock a mess of fluids. Arthur’s hole gapes for a few seconds before a trickle of come seeps out, running down the crack. Eames rubs at the rim, massaging his come into the sensitive skin. Arthur chuckles and a rush of fluid drips out, white and thick. Eames wants to collect it all and shove it back in, forcing Arthur to carry it around inside him forever, but he knows that’s not realistic. Besides, Arthur might actually claw at him if Eames tries to stick anything else in his ass before the day is out.

 

“You’re gorgeous,” Eames tells him, pressing a kiss to the side of Arthur’s knee.

 

“After all that, I better be,” Arthur says, sounding tired again.

 

“Bath?” Eames asks once the come has slowed to a dribble.

 

“Shower,” Arthur grunts. “And I’m not lifting a finger to clean any of this.”

  
Eames smiles against the skin of Arthur’s thigh and thanks whatever entity saw fit to bless him with this wonderful man.


	5. December 29-Five Golden Gasps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't try this at home, kids! The kind of things Eames and Arthur get into in this chapter are seriously fucking dangerous and only advisable if you're a fictional character. Brain, nerve, and tissue damage can result from this kind of choking in real life. Don't be stupid.

Arthur wakes late the next morning to find the day’s box on his nightstand and the apartment empty. There’s a note attached to the box, explaining that Eames has some errands to run, but to expect them to get started the moment he returns. Arthur squirms with anticipation and ends up dropping the box when he opens it to find  _ Five Golden Gasps _ written in neat block letters on the card.

 

He’s no novice when it comes to breathplay, but Eames doesn’t do things halfway and five times in one day is a little overwhelming. But he trusts Eames to take care of him and to know where his limits lie.

 

He showers and brushes his teeth, pulling on a fresh pair of underwear and wandering into the kitchen for coffee. Normally, Eames has breakfast ready for him or they go out, but with Eames not there he’s at a bit of a loss. It never occurred to him before how quickly he’s come depend on Eames in his life; how much the other man does for him without Arthur having to ask. It makes him smile to know that Eames finds pleasure in caring for him, and Arthur can only hope he’s doing enough to make all the effort worthwhile.

  
  


Arthur’s on the couch, plate of toast beside him when Eames opens the front door. Their eyes meet for a moment, Arthur’s breath catching in his throat before he bolts. He hears the bag of groceries Eames was carrying hit the floor and the door slams shut. Arthur’s fast, and he doesn’t have the burden of a winter coat and boots, but Eames is a hunter, willing to wait for his prey to make a mistake, and Arthur knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s caught.

 

He rushes into the bedroom, pausing to look around. His pulse is already jumping and his cock is half hard from the thrill of being chased. He slips into the closet, leaving the door ajar to throw Eames off. He tries to steady his breathing, but knowing that very soon he’ll be fighting for every slip of oxygen, his body a mess of static signals as he tries desperately to fight for air, has him panting wildly.

 

Eames strolls into the bedroom, calm and collected, danger telegraphed in his every movement. He’s removed his coat, but his boots remain. Arthur shivers at the thought of their heavy soles on his throat. Eames checks behind the door and under the bed, jumping to his feet when Arthur bursts out of the closet and makes a break for the hall. Eames lunges, catching him around the middle and taking him to the floor. 

 

Arthur curses as his knee skids dully across the hardwood in a streak of burning pain. That’s the last breath he’s able to take before Eames settles over top of him, one knee on Arthur’s chest, pinning him down. He thrashes and tries to clamp down on Eames fingers, but his head is knocks against the floor just hard enough to stun him and allow Eames to curve his palm over Arthur’s snarling mouth. He waits for Arthur’s eyes to focus on him before uses the other hand to plug his nose. 

 

Arthur freezes, focusing on what little oxygen he still has, but it isn’t long before his lungs start to burn. Eames stares down at him, his expression carefully blank as Arthur searches for an escape. Eames’ knee is digging into his pectoral, his leg a heavy weight across his sternum, and the grip his hands have on Arthur’s face feel like bands of steel.  He kicks out with his legs, trying to unseat Eames, and he’s rewarded with a smile. Eames lets him struggle but Arthur quickly grows tired, bright spots appearing in his vision. 

 

Eames nods when Arthur’s movements grow sluggish. “That’s it, darling. Just relax. Daddy has you.”

 

Arthur can feel tears streaming over his temple and pooling in his ears and Eames sinks lower into the hold, putting more pressure on Arthur’s chest. But Arthur’s brain is in a panic and the pain has taken a backseat. His eyelids flutter, blackness creeping in on all sides, then, suddenly, he can breathe again. 

 

Arthur sucks in a greedy breath, choking on the air he so desperately needs. Eames keeps him pinned on the floor, sliding over to straddle Arthur’s hips and keep him from hurting himself as his body catches up with his brain.

 

“Calm down, love, just breathe,” Eames murmurs, wiping tears off Arthur’s face and smoothing back his hair.

 

Arthur tries to speak, to shove Eames off, to do anything to protect himself, but he’s shaking and all he can do is sputter and sob, his fists thudding weakly against Eames’ thighs.

 

“Arthur, look at me,” Eames commands, his tone brokering no argument, and it’s just what Arthur needs to focus him. “You’re fine. I’m right here, and you can breathe.”

 

“Daddy,” Arthur gasps, reaching for Eames.

 

Eames pulls him up to sitting, moving to the side so he can pull Arthur into his lap and rock while Arthur clings to him, his mouth leaving a wet circle against the shoulder of Eames’ shirt. It takes a good twenty minutes, but Arthur finally starts to feel normal again. He’s still shaky, and he can’t seem to make himself let go of Eames, but he’s able to get to his feet and stand quietly while Eames collects the grocery bags and put his purchases away.

 

“I want to keep going,” Arthur whispers, wrapping himself around Eames from behind.

 

Eames chuckles and turns in his arms. “Of course you do.” He runs his thumb over Arthur’s lips. “The first time is always the worst, isn’t it?”

 

Arthur nods and presses his cheek to Eames’ chest, trying to burrow into his heat. 

 

“How about we move forward with something a little more beneficial to both of us, hmm?” Eames says, his hands running up Arthur’s back to his shoulders, pushing him onto his knees on the kitchen tile.

 

Arthur whimpers softly, his lips catching on Eames’ belt buckle. Eames cradles the back of his head, opening his pants with his other hand. He’s not hard, but Arthur relishes the soft weight of Eames’ cock on his tongue. Eames strokes his throat as he thrusts slowly, rubbing himself over Arthur’s tongue and lips, his cock filling at the attention. Once he’s half hard, Eames pressed Arthur’s head to his groin, the hairs at the base tickling Arthur’s nose as he inhales. He knows what’s coming and his own cock is starting to perk up.

 

He uses his tongue to massage Eames’ shaft, sealing his lips around it and sucking once Eames is fully hard, the head of his cock nudging into Arthur’s throat.

 

“Relax, darling. Let Daddy in,” Eames asks quietly, groaning when Arthur’s throat opens up around him and his cock slides in another half inch, catching Arthur mid inhalation and making him choke.

 

Eames pulls back after a few seconds, thrusting into Arthur’s slack mouth while Arthur takes the chance to suck in lungfuls of air through his nose. Eames cuts him off again, holding his head firmly in place while his thumb rubs where Arthur’s throat and jaw meet. Arthur swallows on instinct, and Eames slides out just enough for Arthur to draw in a breath, then plunges back in, fucking Arthur’s throat in short, hard jabs, never pulling out far enough for Arthur to take a full breath.

 

“Fuck,” Eames groans and Arthur claws at his legs, his own cock aching. Eames lets Arthur get in two full breaths, never pulling his cock all the way out, and Arthur whimpers, rubbing himself through his underwear.

 

Eames swears and pulls out, catching Arthur’s wrists in his hand and pinning them against his leg while shoving his cock back into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur huffs in frustration and Eames laughs, pressing himself into the back of Arthur’s throat, choking off his complaint.

 

“None of that, now,” Eames admonishes. “You’ll get to come, kitten, but I want you desperate and feral when you do.”

 

Arthur gags and Eames pulls back, allowing him a single breath before fucking his way back in. Arthur swallows compulsively a few times, feeling the muscles of his throat squeezing around Eames. 

 

“Oh, good boy. You’re so good to Daddy. Letting me fuck you raw, any way I want.” Eames starts thrusting in earnest, pistoning his hips forward and choking Arthur every few strokes. His throat is starting to ache, but being used like this by Eames is one of his very favourite things, and every time his air is cut off it only amps up his desire. 

 

Arthur fingers curl into the fabric of Eames’ jeans, pulling them down so he can press his fingertips into the warm flesh of Eames’ thigh. He focuses on the wiry hair, stroking it gently while Eames chants his name and thrusts in deep, flooding Arthur’s mouth and throat with come. Eames pulls out, shooting the last of it over Arthur’s lips and cheek, rubbing it into his skin as Arthur swallows thickly, wincing at the ache in his jaw.

 

Eames hauls him up, lifting Arthur by the waist to sit him on the counter and press into the space between his thighs. Eames licks the come off Arthur’s lips, groaning when Arthur opens his mouth for Eames to explore. Arthur loses himself in the kiss, his hands sliding under Eames’ shirt, scratching over his stomach as he tries desperately to ignore his throbbing cock. 

 

There’s a growing wet spot on his underwear and it would be so easy to slide forward a few inches and rub against Eames. But he doesn’t have permission to do that, and if he tries Eames will only make him wait longer. 

 

He doesn’t register Eames’ movements until the leather slides around his neck, the belt sliding through the buckle and cinching tight. His eyes fly open, but Eames pulls on the belt, not letting Arthur break their kiss. Eames smooths his hand up Arthur’s thigh, urging him to wrap his legs around his waist. Eames picks him up off the counter, one hand holding tight to the belt, and Arthur gasps when his cock finally slides against the hard plane of Eames’ firm stomach.

 

He only gets to enjoy it until they get to the bedroom and Eames drops him on the bed, the jarring movement causing the belt to tighten around his neck, squeezing his trachea. Eames rolls him over, pulling him onto his knees and wraps the belt around his hand, pulling Arthur’s head up and back while he shoves his underwear down and picks up a second belt from the chaise at the end of the bed. He must have put it there before he left and Arthur overlooked it in his excitement. 

 

Arthur starts to pant when Eames snaps the second belt against rough fabric covering his thigh.

 

“Count them out for me, darling,” Eames says, bringing the belt down over Arthur’s backside the moment the words are out.

 

Arthur gasps, rocking forward. The belt brings him back, nearly choking the word out of him. The second hit is harder and when Arthur’s breath is stolen from him it has nothing to do with the belt around his neck. 

 

“I can’t hear you, love.” Eames digs his fingers into the welt he’s just left. 

 

“Two,” Arthur says through clenched teeth, trying and failing to lower his head.

 

“Excellent,” Eames coos, patting Arthur’s hip before bringing the belt down again over the curve of Arthur’s left ass cheek.

 

“Three!” Arthur sobs, pushing into the sting. He’s leaking precome onto the duvet and he knows if Eames would just hit him a few times in succession, he could come just from this. But Eames must know this too, because he tightens the belt until Arthur can’t breathe and hits him again.

The belt doesn’t loosen and Arthur nearly falls over when he holds up four fingers for Eames to see.

 

“One more, darling. Then we’ll get to the real fun.” Eames steps to the side and Arthur’s lungs are starting to burn again, but he’s able to brace himself before Eames brings his arm back over his head and lays the belt into the flesh of Arthur’s ass, right where his thigh meets his cheek.

 

The belt loosens and Arthur gulps in air, shouting a shaky “Five!” before collapsing onto the bed, throat burning and ass stinging. He ruts against the covers, kicking at Eames when he grabs hold of Arthur’s upper arms and hauling him back up.

 

“Almost done,” Eames growls into his ear, loosening the belt from around his neck.

 

Arthur stumbles down the hall, led roughly by Eames’ grip on him. He giggles, light-headed and weak when he sees that Eames is headed for the raised platform in the corner of the living room. His cock throbs, a pulse of precome dribbling out when Eames slips the padded cuff around Arthur’s neck. He attaches a lead to the cuff, looping it over the hook in the ceiling and wrapping the end around Arthur’s hand.

 

He steps back to admire the view, stripping quickly and letting his clothes fall to the floor. Arthur pulls on the lead, the cuff cutting off his air until he’s forced to go up on his toes to take a breath. Eames kisses him hard, his hands groping any part of Arthur that he can reach.

 

“You’re fucking perfect, do you know that?” Eames asks, eyes dark and intense.

 

Arthur responds with a grin and another tug on the lead. Eames drops to his knees, pulling Arthur’s underwear the rest of the way off and biting at the outside of his thigh. There’s lube sitting on the stool next to the platform, another hint Arthur missed earlier, and Eames looks up at Arthur as he snaps open the cap and slicks up his fingers.

 

Arthur loosens the lead and spreads his legs, sighing when Eames rubs two fingers over his hole. He’s still sensitive from yesterday, but he groans with pleasure when Eames slides his fingers in, thrusting slowly to open him up.

 

“That’s it, kitten,” Eames pants against Arthur’s hip, spreading his fingers as he pulls them out, then pushing back in, curling and searching for Arthur’s prostate. “Show Daddy what you can do.”

 

Arthur jolts when Eames hits the spot, tugging on the lead until he’s gasping against the cuff. Eames slides his mouth over the head of Arthur’s cock, licking messily around the crown and pressing in a third finger.

 

“Fuck,” Arthur rasps, trying to spread his legs wider without passing out.

 

Eames’ bites down gently, growling. “Language, pet.”

 

“Sorry, Daddy,” Arthur says, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Eames sucks him down, mouth tight and wet around Arthur’s cock while he thrusts in hard, grinding the tip of a finger into Arthur’s prostate. Arthur’s scream is silent, the cuff compressing his throat and cutting off all his air as lights spark behind his eyes and he comes in a rush, violent and sudden, pumping into Eames’ hot mouth as he chokes himself out.

 

The next thing he knows, Eames is unwrapping the lead from his hand and easing him to the ground. Arthur tries to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled croak and Eames shushes him, moving him off the platform and onto the thick rug in front of the window.

 

“Darling, darling,” Eames murmurs, checking Arthur, his lips following his hands over Arthur’s throat and jaw.

 

Arthur winces when he tries to clear his throat and Eames stops his soothing long enough to look up at him.

 

“What is it, love?” he asks, peppering Arthur’s face with kisses.

 

Arthur grunts and pushing his face away. He leans close to Eames’ ear and grinds out: “Fuck me.”

 

In the blink of an eye Eames goes from caretaker to taskmaster, bullying his way between Arthur’s legs and crushing him to the floor with his body. He lines up and thrusts in hard, Arthur’s back bowing at the intrusion. Eames is thick and blunt, filling him completely before pulling out and pressing back in, not giving Arthur any time to adjust. Eames hooks Arthur’s legs over his hips and plunges into him over and over, making a space for himself through sheer force.

 

Arthur writhes beneath him, loving every brutal thrust. He’s too hoarse to cry out so he scores his nails down Eames’ back, holding him close and spreading his legs wider to urge him along. Eames is half wild above him, muttering to himself as he fucks Arthur into the floor. He doesn’t stop when he curls his hand around Arthur’s throat, not squeezing, not yet. Just holding it. The threat of the act just as potent as the real thing. 

 

Arthur feels bruised and scraped raw, inside and out, and all he can do is hold on while Eames takes his due. He hikes his legs higher, pressing them in close to Eames’ ribs, cradling him as he moves with the casual violence that first attracted Arthur to him. He is Eames’ just as much as Eames is his in this moment and there’s no place Arthur would rather be.

 

Eames lets out a breathy moan and leans into the hand around Arthur’s throat. He speeds up, his hips connecting with Arthur’s ass in a loud smack as they come together again and again. Arthur can barely suck in air and then Eames changes the angle slightly, dropping his hips the smallest bit, and he’s hammering Arthur’s prostate again, his fingers cutting off Arthur’s cries as he squeezes, compressing Arthur’s airway while he loses himself in the clutch of Arthur’s body.

 

“So good,” Eames slurs against his cheek, his voice full of emotion. “Good boy, so good.”

 

Arthur’s floating. In his peripheral he can feel Eames’ cock moving inside him, his bulk holding him down, owning him, keeping him open and accessible for Eames’ pleasure. He can feel the rough fibers against his back and ass, the biting push and pull of carpet burn setting in, the echo of pain from the belt. Eames’ hand is a hot brand around his neck, his fingers squeezing rhythmically in time with his thrusts, never quite loosening enough to allow Arthur more than a whisper of air. 

 

Arthur blinks rapidly, darkness seeping in on all sides as his heart beats wildly and his chest burns. He’s a thousand miles away and yet he’s right here, under Eames, clenching his ass and meeting every piston of hips and loving every second of it.

 

Eames roars, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s temple, his rhythm stuttering, and then he’s shoving in deep, coming, hot and thick inside Arthur, and he’s had so much come inside him in the last two days, it shouldn’t still feel this novel. But every time they do this, every time Eames sees fit to bless him with his seed, to mark him, inside and out, turning Arthur’s body into a temple he can worship at, Arthur gets emotional. He loves it, loves Eames, and he’s forever grateful that he took a chance and showed up that first day.

 

Arthur gulps in air and Eames thrusts slowly, working himself into Arthur until he’s too soft and has to stop, collapsing on Arthur’s chest. He raises up onto his elbows when Arthur starts to laugh. Eames frowns at the scratchy hitch of breath coming from Arthur in place of his voice.

 

“Has Daddy broken you, pet?”

 

Arthur laughs harder, curling himself around Eames until he’s got Eames on his back and is able to nestle himself into his chest and sling his leg over Eames’ hip. He uses his finger to trace letters out slowly on Eames’ palm, raising it above their heads.

  
Eames watches carefully, a smile breaking out over his face when he understands. “You take my breath away, too, darling.”


	6. December 30-Six Gentleman's Rimmings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! It's unbeta'd because I didn't finish on time and toddlers are jerks.

Eames’ soapy hands glide over Arthur chest, scrubbing gently with the tips of his fingers. Arthur snorts when Eames washes his armpits, but he’s careful not to open his eyes. When Eames gets to his cock, he massages around it, scratching the soap through Arthur’s curls, reaching lower to smooth a hand around his balls, and beyond. Arthur shivers when the tip of Eames’ finger slides over his hole and Eames grins against Arthur’s shoulder. 

 

“Not today, love. Need you to rest up for tomorrow.”

 

Arthur bites his lip, bracing himself against the wall as Eames does a thorough job of cleaning him. Eames uses the detachable shower head to wash Arthur off, enjoying the way he groans when Eames spreads his cheeks and the water rushes over his hole. Eames replaces the shower head and drops to his knees, chasing the rivulets that disappeared to drip off Arthur’s balls. 

 

He swipes the flat of his tongue across the furled centre, pulling back on Arthur’s hips to give him more access. Arthur follows his directions beautifully and is soon pressing back into Eames’ attentions.

 

“How long?” Arthur pants, his voice still hoarse from the day before. “How long do I have to wait to come today?”

 

Eames pulls back, petting at Arthur with his pruned fingertips. “Whenever you wish, darling. I’m here for your pleasure.”

 

He plunges back in and Arthur’s hand immediately goes to his cock, long, slender fingers wrapping around it, pulling lightly. His hole tightens, then relaxes, and when Eames wriggles the tip of his tongue inside, Arthur lets out a breathy moan and his hand gets down to business. 

 

Eames uses his thumbs to spread Arthur apart, licking from his balls to the top of his crack and back down. Arthur tastes like clean water and his own unique tartness. His skin is impossibly soft, and Eames lips at it, massaging the rim of his hole until the his tongue can easily slip in and out, making Arthur’s breath hitch. 

 

He knows they’re only getting started on the day so he takes his time, enjoying how tight Arthur is and listening carefully for every little noise he makes. Arthur’s breathing heavy and his hand is flying over his cock, so Eames buries his face in his ass and tickles the back side of his balls. Arthur chokes out a cry and pushes into it, seeking out more of Eames’ mouth until he’s clenching tight again and painting the tile with long ropes of white spunk.

 

Eames climbs to his feet, humming happily when Arthur throws his arms around his neck and kisses him deeply. Eames shoos him out of the shower as the water starts to go cold, patting him down with a towel and telling him to go wait on the bed with a hard smack to the ass.

 

Arthur grins and goes, sauntering out of the bathroom. Eames finds him five minutes later, sprawled across the bed, checking his email. 

 

“Ah, ah, ah, none of that.” Eames plucks the phone out of his hand and drops it into the drawer of his side table.

 

“Don’t take so long,” Arthur smirks. “And I won’t have to entertain myself. 

 

Eames grabs him by the ankles and pulls him to the edge of the bed, wrapping Arthur’s legs around him and hoisting him up. Arthur laughs, clinging tight to Eames’ shoulders as he’s carried down the hall to the living room. He lets out a little yelp when Eames drops him onto the couch and lays down on top of him.

 

“My ass is at the other end,” Arthur tells him, squealing when Eames tickles the skin over his ribs.

 

“I’m well acquainted with it, thanks.” Eames dips his head to blow a raspberry on Arthur’s pectoral.

 

Arthur giggles, shoving Eames away. “Are you sure? Maybe you need directions.”

 

Eames sits up on his knees, spreading his arms wide. “By all means, darling. Lead the way.”

 

Arthur rolls his eyes and reaches for Eames, who slides to the floor, pushing the coffee table aside and laying on the rug.

 

“Are you serious?” Arthur sits up, looking down at him with uncertainty.

 

“Come on, then.” Eames motions him closer. “Show Daddy what you want.”

 

Arthur bites his lip, considering, then he’s straddling Eames’ chest, looking over his shoulder as he backs his ass up, over Eames’ face.

 

“Like this?” 

 

“You tell me, pet.” Eames encourages, settling his hands on Arthur’s hips.

 

“Ah, spread me open,” Arthur says, shivering when Eames does it, dipping his fingers in Arthur’s cleft and easing his cheeks apart.

 

“How’s this?” Eames asks, blowing softly over Arthur’s hole and grinning when it makes him squirm.

 

“Yeah, that’s good. Um, can you rub it, please? I like it when you do that.”

 

“Of course, love. Daddy likes to make you feel good.”

 

Arthur arches his back as Eames strokes over his hole. He hums with approval when he presses lightly and Arthur opens right up, taking in the tip of his thumb. Arthur presses into it, but Eames pulls back, trailing the pad of his finger around the rim.

 

“So eager,” Eames murmurs.

 

Arthur laughs. “I’ve been fucked so much over the past few days I’m surprised you can’t just walk right in there.”

 

“No,” Eames says, alternating between soft and firm strokes, dipping his fingertip in every now and then. “You’re always so tight for Daddy. Even now, I doubt I’d get further than the first knuckle without at least some spit. You’re ass is like you are, darling, it appears soft and open on the outside, but if you want to probe deeper, you really have to work for it.”

 

“I’m sure that was meant as endearing, but can you not compare my personality to my asshole, please?” Arthur says gruffly.

 

Eames laughs and rubs his stubble over Arthur’s inner thigh. “What shall I do instead?” 

 

“God, just eat me,” Arthur groans, dropping his ass onto Eames’ face.

 

Eames complies, gripping Arthur’s hips and lining his hole up with Eames’ mouth. He doesn’t waste time with teasing, he gets Arthur nice and wet, dragging his tongue wherever it will reach as Arthur grinds down on him. He can see Arthur in the hallway mirror, a long writhing line of muscle and pale skin, the sensuous curvature of his spine bowing and arching as he moves. Eames has often thought that if Arthur would allow himself to dance the way he fucks, he’d be king of the clubs. But if he had an outlet like that, he might not need Eames, so he’s never said the words out loud.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur pants, gripping the couch for support. 

 

Eames wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist, pulling him closer, almost suffocating himself with Arthur’s ass. His face is a mess of spit and sweat, but Arthur’s groaning loud enough for the neighbours to hear, and he couldn’t stop if he wanted to.

 

He feels around, finding Arthur’s soft cock and holding it in his hand, massaging it gently as he spears Arthur with his tongue. Arthur cries out, leaning forward onto Eames’ thighs to spread himself open further, and he’s in the right position to take Eames into his mouth. He doesn’t suck, just lets Eames sit on his tongue, dripping and hard, biting down a little when Eames sucks at the rim of his hole.

 

“Jesus,” Arthur groans around his cock, pulling back to mouth at the head and sliding his tongue under the foreskin.

 

Eames renews his assault, rubbing his fingers firmly behind Arthur’s balls and licking over his hole with vigor. Arthur finally, finally, starts to bob his head, sliding wet and hot up and down Eames’ cock. Between Arthur’s ass under his mouth and Arthur’s mouth around his cock, it doesn’t take long before Eames is on the edge. He knows this is supposed to be all for Arthur, but he’s aware of how fond his boy is of making him come, so he lets go, coming in waves and letting Arthur suck him dry while Eames rims him to within an inch of his life.

 

Arthur collapses forward onto Eames, legs, panting and shivering, his ass on display for Eames.

 

“Mmm, thank you for that, love.” Eames says, flexing his jaw.

 

“Frumthp,” Arthur mutters, falling to the side and colliding with the coffee table.

 

“What was that?” Eames sits up and shoves the table further away, rubbing Arthur’s shoulder where it hit.

 

“I said, ‘I didn’t say stop’.”

 

Eames laughs, pulling Arthur against his chest. “There’s plenty more where that came from. But first, lunch.”

 

“I just ate.” Arthur smirks.

 

“If only I could sustain you on jizz alone,” Eames says wistfully, tripping his fingers up Arthur’s thigh. “Come on, I have an outfit picked out for you.”

 

Arthur groans, but gets to his feet. He pulls Eames up after him and wraps Eames’ arms around his slim waist so they can stumble down the hall together.

 

Arthur gives him an unimpressed look when Eames lays the clothes out on the bed. “Really?”

 

“Just go with it,” Eames says, pulling on his underwear.

 

“I’m having flashbacks to my life before you.” Arthur fingers the thin t-shirt.

 

“Then you’re seeing how much better off you are now,” Eames says, watching Arthur closely.

 

A slow smile curves over his mouth. “Yeah, I am.”

 

Eames steps up behind him, pressing a palm to Arthur chest and pulling him closer. “You belong to Daddy now,” Eames growls into his ear.

 

Arthur shivers and drops his head back, going beautifully pilant. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

“Would you like Daddy to dress you?”

 

Arthur nods, closing his eyes. Eames pinches his nipple and Arthur gasps, arching into it.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” he corrects, brushing a kiss over Eames’ jaw.

 

Eames sits Arthur on the bed and slides the jockstrap up his legs. Arthur wasn’t wearing one the day they met, but it’s a favourite accessory of Eames’ and it’s perfect for what he has planned for later.

 

Socks and pants are next. Arthur has to shimmy a little and lay down to get them zipped, but the effort is worth it when the denim fits like a second skin over his long legs. The shirt is vintage, dark blue and practically see-thru in spots. It’s a women’s medium so it lays close to Arthur’s ribs and a strip of skin shows at his midriff every time he moves. Eames wants to eat him whole.

 

Arthur’s old glasses make him look ten years younger and the leather cuff still cuts into his wrist when Eames fastens the buckle.

 

“You look delectable,” Eames says, kissing the tip of his nose.

 

“I look like jailbait,” Arthur says knowingly.

 

Eames sighs. “If only.”

 

“Getting too old for you, am I?” Arthur asks jokingly, but he casts his eyes to the side and Eames hears the vulnerability underneath.

 

He cups Arthur’s face in his hands, pulling him close. “Never. You are always exactly how I want you. Daddy is very lucky to have you, Arthur.”

 

Arthur flushes, but looks pleased. “Thank you, Daddy.”

 

Eames kisses his forehead, breathing him in. “Oh, love.” He collects himself and lets go of Arthur, pushing him down on the bed and moving to the closet to get dressed. Arthur shakes his head when he’s done.

 

“Are you trying to look like someone’s actual father?”

 

Eames looks down at himself. “Is the cardigan too much?”

 

“It might be,” Arthur says slowly. “If it wasn’t contoured to your body.”

 

“Being someone’s father doesn’t mean one can’t look good, darling.”

 

“Well, you look good. Very good, actually. How are you doing that?” Arthur frowns. “When I wear a cardigan I look ridiculous, but you’re all,” he waves his hand at Eames.

 

“All what?” 

 

“Hot dad,” Arthur says flatly.

 

“It’s the muscles,” Eame tells him. “Plus the cardigan is at least a size too small. Helps my arms pop.”

 

“Is that what it is?” Arthur fingers the light blue sweater. “You’re not actually someone’s father, right? I mean, you would have told me by now.”

 

Eames chuckles and peels Arthur’s hand away from where it’s making its way under the cardigan and the white t-shirt he’s wearing underneath. “Yes, darling, I would have. I’m your Daddy, that’s all.”

 

Arthur smile sheepishly and Eames pulls him to his feet, ushering him towards the front door.

 

“Why are you walking like that?” Eames asks, eyeing Arthur’s gait critically.

 

“Because beard burn and tight pants don’t play well together,” he says, pulling on the Converse sneakers Eames left out for him. “Do I get a jacket or am I meant to freeze to death out there?”

 

“Oh, I nearly forgot!” Eames grabs the busted up black leather jacket he picked up months ago and has been saving for a moment such as this.

 

“Lovely,” Arthur sighs, letting Eames help him into the jacket. “My twink transformation is complete.”

 

“Now you’re getting it,” Eames growls in his ear, rubbing Arthur through his jeans. “The moment we walk out the door, you will be Daddy’s perfect little boy won’t you?”

 

Arthur nods, his breath catching when Eames squeezes him. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

“You will be obedient and grateful, and you will do exactly what Daddy tells you to because without Daddy, you have nothing, isn’t that right?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur says, catching on quickly to what Eames is hinting at.

 

“If Daddy hadn’t found you, where would you be?” Eames thumbs at the head of Arthur’s cock through his jeans. It can’t be comfortable, being hard in pants that tight, but Arthur moans, arching into the touch.

 

“On the streets, living blow job to blow job.”

 

Eames grins against Arthur’s shoulder. “Good, that’s good.”

 

“We don’t need to leave the apartment to play like this,” Arthur whispers.

 

“No, we don’t, but Daddy had big plans for you today, and for them to work, we must brave the outside world.”

 

“In that case, I’m very hungry, Daddy.” Arthur bats his eyes at him and Eames cuffs him on the back of the head and shoves out the door. 

 

Arthur makes a noise of surprise when Eames takes them down to the parking garage and uncovers the car. They don’t drive it often, since everything they need is pretty much within walking distance in their neighbourhood and Arthur takes the train to work.

 

He stows the cover in the trunk and opens the door for Arthur with a dramatic sweep of his arm. The car is a dark green ‘66 Chevelle and Arthur looks like an angel all dressed up inside it, smoothing his hands over the leather seats.

 

“This is a really nice car, Daddy.”

 

“I’m going to ruin you in it, darling.” Eames gives him a shark of a smile and closes the door.

 

Eames drives across the city, aiming for the dusty little diner he scoped out last month. He parks where he can see the car and opens Arthur’s door for him, draping his arm across his boy’s shoulder and pulling him to the door. Arthur’s fidgeting and looking around nervously, as if he’s going to run into someone he knows. Eames bites back a smile because for all that Arthur teases him for his research, let it never be said that Arthur doesn’t also commit to his roles.

 

“Sit here,” Eames tells him, letting Arthur slide into the booth first. He follows suit, sitting so close to Arthur that their arms brush.

 

They order drinks and burgers with Eames’ hand resting high and possessive on Arthur’s thigh. There’s a small hole in his jeans and Eames’ finger keeps dipping into it to rub at his warm skin. Arthur squirms under his touch, but Eames ignores it, tracing Arthur’s inseam up his leg until Arthur squeezes his legs together and the waitress comes back with their food. 

 

Eames talks about rugby while they eat, explaining the rules and finer points of the game while Arthur nods along and retains none of it. He’s adorable with his hair falling over his brow, pushing his thick framed glasses up his nose every few minutes. If Eames had indeed spotted him on some street corner, he’d have snatched him up in a heartbeat. As it happened, it was Arthur who sought him out, needing someone strong-willed and experience to calm him down and turn him inside out so he could relax.

 

Arthur’s hand flutters on Eames’ knee, tentative and light. “It was really kind of you to buy me lunch.” Arthur gives him a shy smile, eyes darting away quickly.

 

The dark creature that’s been sated for so long growls inside of Eames. It remembers the Arthur who first came to him. The one who was nervous and needy, and looking for guidance. The one practically begging to be taken apart, piece by piece.

 

Eames trails his finger down Arthur’s cheek. “Yes, it was. I don’t just buy lunch for anyone, you know.”

 

“I-I know,” Arthur stutters, flushing. “I really appreciate it.”

 

“Do you?” Eames asks and Arthur nods, eyes wide and bright. “How much, I wonder.”

 

“Very much, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. If it wasn’t for you I’d have nowhere to stay, I’d be out on the street.” Arthur voice is breathy and he’s leaning into Eames, his body a hot, firm weight against his side.

 

“And yet,” Eames shrugs.

 

“And yet what?” Arthur asks, looking stricken. “What did I do?”

 

“It’s more what you haven’t done, petal.” Eames sighs, thumbing Arthur’s lower lip.

 

“What do you want? What can I do?” Arthur asks eagerly.

 

“How about a kiss? Just a little one,” Eames clarifies when Arthur’s eyes widen, looking around them.

 

“A-a kiss. I can do that.” Arthur smile is shaky and Eames wants to lay him down on the bench and thank him properly for playing along.

 

“Just a kiss.” Eames smiles, waiting.

 

Arthur rubs his hands on his thighs, and blows out his breath. He leans into Eames slowly, his eyes never leaving Eames’ mouth. He’s the very picture of a boy out of his depth and Eames can’t help but push him further. He grabs Arthur by the back of his head and shoves his tongue in the poor boy’s mouth, swiping it around and biting at Arthur’s lips. It’s deep, and filthy, and Arthur’s panting by the time Eames pulls back.

 

“That’s a start,” Eames says, grabbing the cheque and getting up to pay. Arthur joins him at the door, his head lowered, and Eames leads him to the car with a hand at the small of his back.

 

“What else do you want from me?” Arthur asks quietly once Eames is sitting beside him.

 

Eames slides his hand between Arthur’s legs, making him jump. “Does it matter?”

 

“Of course it matters,” Arthur chokes out, groaning when Eames starts to rub him again.

 

“It really doesn’t, pet, and I’ll tell you why. You owe me. You said it yourself; without me, you have nothing. Therefore, everything that is yours is mine for the taking. And I shall take, dear boy. Whatever Daddy wants, his gorgeous boy will give to him, is that understood?”

 

“But-”

 

“But what, Arthur?” Eames cuts him off. “Is repaying someone’s kindness too much to ask?”

 

“No, I just-”

 

“Then why is this so hard for you to understand? Nothing comes for free.”

 

“I didn’t know,” Arthur says, his voice meek.

 

“That’s hardly my problem. Look, this may all be new and scary right now, but I promise that soon you’ll look forward to it, okay?” Eames runs his hand through Arthur’s hair, tilting his head back. “Daddy’s going to take good care of you.”

 

“Okay,” Arthur whispers, looking on the verge of tears.

 

Eames’ grip tightens, making Arthur wince. “What was that?”

 

“Okay, Daddy,” Arthur gasps, a tear spilling out of the corner of his eye.

 

Eames pulls him closer by the hair, nipping at Arthur’s earlobe. “You are so good to me,” he whispers, kissing Arthur’s jaw. He grabs Arthur’s hand and puts it on his thigh before starting the car and pulling back onto the road. 

 

The small parking garage Eames rented out isn’t far from the diner, but he drives around for a while, moving Arthur’s hand around his leg just to watch him pretend to squirm.  When Eames pulls into the garage and kills the engine, Arthur cranes his neck to watch the door close, cutting them off from the outside world.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that no one will bother us here.” Eames opens his door and gets out, going around the back of the car to open Arthur’s. “Come on, now. No need to be shy.”

 

Arthur gets out of the car slowly, biting at his lower lip. Eames pushes the leather jacket off his shoulders, throwing it into the car before closing the door. He crowds Arthur against the car, sliding his hands under the thin t-shirt. 

 

Arthur shivers. “What are you doing?”

 

“Taking what’s owed me,” Eames says and kisses him, keeping it slow and soft, his hands making their way further up Arthur’s chest to his nipples. Arthur gasps, breaking the kiss when Eames pinches him. His face goes red and he turns his head away.

 

“No need to be shy, pet. Daddy will take care of you.” Eames eases the shirt up, coaxing it over Arthur’s head and off his arms, letting it fall to the ground.

 

Arthur wraps his arms around his torso, trying to shield himself from Eames and the cold. “What if someone comes in?” 

 

“The place is ours for the day, no one is going to interrupt us.”

 

“It’s cold,” Arthur tries.

 

The garage is heated, but it’s nothing close to how warm the apartment is when Eames strips him naked at home, and Arthur’s a creature who needs warmth. Eames leads him to the front of the car, sitting him on the warm hood and only wincing a little when a piece of metal on Arthur’s jeans scrapes against the paint. All for a good cause, he reminds himself.

 

“Better?” Eames asks and Arthur nods reluctantly. Eames twists his left nipple between his fingers sharply, making Arthur squawk. “What was that?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur spits out, rubbing his nipple.

 

“That’s the last warning you’re going to get. The next time you don’t respond properly I will whip you, and believe me, there will be nothing pleasurable about it. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur says, tears springing to his eyes again.

 

Eames threads his fingers through the hair at the back of Arthur’s head, angling his head up so Eames can drop a kiss on his lips. “This needn't be painful or awkward, darling. Let Daddy take care of you and you won’t regret it.”

 

“Can’t I just suck you?” Arthur blurts. “Daddy!” he tacks on when Eames reaches for his belt.

 

“But that’s not what Daddy wants.”

 

Arthur swallows thickly. “What does Daddy want?”

 

Eames smiles, his free hand going to the button of Arthur’s jeans. “Daddy wants to take his payment out on your arse.”

 

Arthur whimpers, but doesn’t fight when Eames tugs on his hair, pulling him back to lay down over the hood of the car. Eames struggles a bit with getting Arthur’s pants open, but when he does, Arthur’s cock springs out, hard and leaking at the tip.

 

“Lovely,” Eames says reverently, swiping his tongue over the head and smiling when Arthur’s skull hits the car with a thud. “So good for Daddy.”

 

He peels Arthur’s pants down slowly, partly because he wants to reveal his dear boy inch by inch, and partly because the pants are just that tight. He gives up once the jeans are at Arthur’s calves and surges up to suck him down.

 

Arthur starts, knees coming up to hit Eames in the chest. Eames growls around him and spreads his legs, using the pants to pin Arthur down. He digs his fingers into the hollows on Arthur’s outer thighs and sucks him in long, slow pulls. Arthur’s hands are pressed to the hood, his chest heaving and his head rolling from side to side.

 

“Yeah, yeah, God,” Arthur pants. “Daddy.”

 

Eames groans and takes him in deeper, just a quick dip into his throat until Arthur’s crying out, then Eames pulls off. “Roll over.”

 

Arthur freezes. “Why? This is good, Daddy.”

 

Eames chuckles, curling his fingers behind Arthur’s knees. “You’ll turn over because I fucking told you to.” Eames pulls Arthur’s knees up and out, exposing him.

 

Arthur swears and tries to close his legs, but Eames has him off balance. “I didn’t bring any lube, but if you’re going to fight me every step of the way I may as well fuck you like this, right now.”

 

“No, no, no!” Arthur holds his hands up in submission. “I’m sorry, Daddy, I’ll roll over, I’m sorry.”

 

Eames drops his legs and Arthur goes slowly to his hands and knees, the navy jockstrap framing his ass perfectly, just like Eames wanted. Arthur’s breath is stuttering in and out and he chokes on a startled noise when Eames spreads his cheeks open.

 

“Daddy shouldn’t have to work this hard for repayment, you know. After everything I’ve done for you, you should drops to your fucking knees when I snap my fingers.” Eames punctuates the last word by sliding his thumb into Arthur’s ass. 

 

Arthur gasps and tries to claw his way up the hood of the car. Eames takes hold of his pants and pulls him back down, pushing in deeper and twisting until Arthur’s elbow slips and his chest crashes to the hood.

 

“Much better,” Eames muses and licks around his thumb. He scoops his other arm around Arthur’s waist, holding him close so he can tuck his face in close without leaning too far over. He removes his thumb, using that hand to hold Arthur open while he flattens his tongue and runs it over and over Arthur’s hole until he’s making little breathy whimpers that make Eames want to fuck him raw. He keeps going, alternating between sucks and licks, and fucking his tongue into Arthur’s ass.

 

“How’s that, darling?” Eames asks, panting. He rubs his fingers roughly over Arthur’s hole.

 

“I can’t-I can’t-”

 

“Speak up, dear, Daddy can’t hear you.”

 

“I can’t take anymore!” Arthur sobs. “Please, please, Daddy.”

 

“And here I thought we were just getting started.” Eames says, pressing his thumb back inside.

 

Arthur cries out, slumping. “Please!”

 

“Please, what?” Eames thrusts his thumb in and out, catching the tip of his nail on the rim a few times.

 

“Please let me come! Please, Daddy, I’ll suck you off, I’ll do whatever, just please let me come.” 

 

Eames hums and pulls his thumb out, lapping at Arthur. “Whatever is a mighty big thing to promise, love. And do you really think you coming signals the end of this? That I won’t keep going until you’re a snivelling mess and covered in my come?”

 

“God, yes,” Arthur groans, pushing back. 

 

Eames chuckles darkly. “I knew it. I knew you’d be begging for it before long. You want Daddy to let you come?”

 

“Please, yes, yes, Daddy, please.” Arthur braces himself on his elbows and arches his back.

 

“Oh, Arthur,” Eames growls. 

 

He starts his assault anew, sucking Arthur’s rim and getting a hand around his cock, stroking quickly. Arthur’s mewling above him, pushing into Eames mouth, then thrusting into his hand like he can’t decide which he likes best. Eames points his tongue and slides it as far as he can, jerking Arthur steadily until he’s clenching down and Eames has to take his tongue out, rubbing it over Arthur’s hole firmly as he comes, sobbing and shooting all over the hood of the car. 

 

He collapses as soon as Eames lets him go, then he’s turning and sliding off the car onto the ground in front of Eames, pushing up his sweater and tearing open his pants to swallow his cock. It’s messy and clumsy and Eames braces himself on the front of the car so Arthur has to bend backwards or choke. Eames comes after less than a minute and he pulls out to streak Arthur’s face, laughing when Arthur tries to chase his cock with his mouth.

 

He uses Arthur’s discarded T-shirt to clean off his face and the hood of the car, then helps right Arthur’s pants, bursting into laughter when they nearly end up tumbling over the front of the car with the effort.

 

“Hold still!” Eames admonishes, trying to pull the tight denim up over Arthur’s ass.

 

“I am, you’re the one jostling me around!” Arthur yells, pushing Eames away to kick his shoes off and wiggle out of the jeans. “Fuck it, I’ll ride home nude.”

 

“Darling, you can’t ride home nude, we’ll get pulled over, and I have no intention of sharing you.” Eames unbuttons his cardigan and hands it over, grabbing the emergency blanket from the trunk and wrapping it around Arthur’s waist.

 

Arthur bends his arm behind his head and bats his eyes at Eames. “How do you like me now, Daddy?”

 

“Get in the fucking car,” Eames chuckles, shaking his head.

 

They share the elevator in their building with Ms. Kreptal from the fourth floor. Arthur stares at the floor and tries not to make his blanket crinkle while Eames nods his head and makes encouraging faces at her while she tells them about her great-grandson’s first steps. When she gets off at her floor she pats Eames hands and tells him he’s raising a very nice young man.

 

“We’ve lived here too long,” Arthur says as soon as the doors close.

 

“You think so? I think it’s nice they’re all so invested in our relationship.” Eames smiles, throwing his arm around Arthur.

 

“We need a house. Preferably in the middle of the woods where no one can hear me scream or ask if I need help when I get the mail, bound in rope.”

 

Eames laughs as Arthur stomps off the elevator, waiting at their door because he has neither keys nor pockets.

 

“Well, I can’t say that idea lacks merit,” Eames says, opening the door. “Someplace bigger would be nice. With a dedicated playroom. Oh, we could start hosting parties.”

 

“Wait,” Arthur says, stopping while Eames continues into the flatt. “Are we actually talking about this? Because I was mostly kidding and if we’re really, truly talking about this I need to have pants on.”

 

“Then we are absolutely not talking about this.” Eames pulls Arthur inside and shuts the door. “I’m drawing us a nice, hot bath and I’m going to rim you until you squeak.”

 

“That sounds more like you,” Arthur kisses him and heads down the hall.

 

Eames frowns after him wondering if talking about buying a house together is really that out of character. They live together, after all, and sure, it’s Eames’ flat, but Arthur didn’t hesitate when Eames asked him to move in, or when, after only one session, Eames invited him to stay; asked for a relationship. Arthur jumped at the chance, making Eames think he’d been waiting for the offer all along.

 

Now, he’s worried that Arthur doesn’t see where this whole thing is heading. That Arthur sees a different future for himself. One without Eames.

 

“That bath isn’t going to draw itself, you know!” Arthur calls.

 

“I’ll be right there.” Eames responds, eyes flickering to the locked drawer of their chest of toys. Another thing that belongs to Eames and not to Arthur. All he’d really brought with him when he moved in were his clothes and a few boxes of mementos. Boxes that have sat in the back of their shared closet for the past eight months. 

 

Eames looks around the living room and there’s not one thing that would tell of Arthur’s life in the flat. There are pictures of the two of them, but Eames had those before Arthur moved in. Has he somehow made Arthur think that he’s not allowed to occupy space in their home? Or does Arthur see this a simply a temporary stop on the way to whatever his future holds?

 

“Eames?” Arthur’s suddenly in front of him, naked, with a tentative smile on his face. “Are you okay?”

 

Eames clears his throat, pulling himself back into the moment. He looks Arthur up and down. “Well, don’t you just look good enough to eat?”

 

“That’s kind of the idea,” Arthur kisses him. “I started the bath,”

 

“Excellent, let’s get you clean so I can dirty you up again.”

 

Eames reclines in the large tub, settling Arthur in front of him so he can let his hands wander where they will. He spreads bubbles over Arthur’s chest, chasing them away with handfuls of water. 

 

“Hey,” Arthur says after about twenty minutes. “Is something wrong?”

 

“No, of course not. Just recharging my batteries for the second half of our challenge.” Eames assures him.

 

“We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to. Six rimmings is a lot. Especially for the person giving them.”

 

“We’re finishing,” Eames growls, holding him tight to his chest. 

 

“Okay, okay, I was just offering. I mean, it’s not exactly a hardship for me.”

 

Eames snorts. “I should think not.”

 

“It’s just. You’d tell me if there was something wrong, right? I mean, we’re in this together and I deserve to know if I’ve upset you.” Arthur pulls away and turns his body sideways to face Eames.

 

“You could never upset me, darling.”

 

“Don’t do that,” Arthur tells him, shaking his head. “Don’t act like I’m perfect and nothing I do annoys you. It’s different when we’re in a scene, but this, right now, is just Arthur and Eames, and I need to know what’s going on.”

 

“When did you get this perceptive?” Eames squints at him.

 

“I’ve always been perceptive, you just like to pretend you know better than I do. You like to be ‘Daddy Eames’ all the time.”

 

“Hmm, is that a fact?”

 

“It is, which is usually fine, but I need to talk to real Eames right now. My boyfriend.” Arthur pokes him in the chest with his finger.

 

“Is that who I am? Boyfriend Eames?”

 

Arthur’s face falls. “Is that not who you want to be?”

 

“I do,” Eames grabs Arthur’s hands, kissing his knuckles. “Everyday. I just worry that you’re not always happy with me.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Arthur asks.

 

“No,”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He pulls his hands away, moving to the other end of the tub.

 

“Arthur, I didn’t mean-”

 

“Do you think I would let just anyone do to me the things I let you do?” Arthur demands. “Do you think I could let myself be like I am with you if I wasn’t happy doing it? If I didn’t trust you?”

 

“Darling, I know you trust me, I just-”

 

“Because if you think I would bare my throat to someone I didn’t know had my best interests at heart, that I wasn’t in-fucking love with, then you don’t know me at all!” Arthur’s on his knees, looking like he’s ready to make a break for it. 

 

“Arthur, I swear, I don’t think that. I know you love me, kitten, you tell me everyday. I just, I noticed that you didn’t unpack your boxes. There’s nothing in this flat that says you live here. I wondered what that meant, that’s all.”

 

“It means I don’t own anything,” Arthur shouts. “It means I was living in a shithole apartment with a fucking mattress on the floor because every cent I make goes towards paying off my student loans. Why did you think I never let you come over? God, Eames, I didn’t put anything out because I don’t have anything! Pictures, an old blanket, and my tax records, that’s all that’s in those boxes. You had this beautiful home, and you wanted to share it with me, how could I say no? I fucking love you.”

 

Eames flexes his jaw, feeling lost and out of his depth at not knowing this about Arthur. How could he not know?

 

“We could have bought new things,” he offers lamely.

 

“I didn’t want new things. I want the sofa in the living room where you fucked me for the first time. I want the pillow I bit through during my first flogging. Those things are our things now, I don’t want to replace them.”

 

“And me? Do you intend on replacing me someday?” Eames asks, unable to meet Arthur’s eyes.

 

Arthur snorts. “After all the fucking training I’ve done on you? Are you kidding me? It would take me years to get someone to where you are.” 

 

Eames give a little laugh and looks up. Arthur’s eyes are bright and warm, staring at him like he can’t believe Eames could ever doubt the strength of their bond.

 

“I’m sorry darling, I don’t know what came over me.”

 

“Probably lack of oxygen from excessive rimming.”

 

Eames chuckles. “Probably. Now, I believe I promised to make you squeak. Come on, up on your knees, you lazy brat.”

 

Arthur smiles and turns around, backing himself closer to Eames with his ass in the air. “But if we buy a house I want all new furniture.” 

 

“Of course,” Eames agrees, spreading him open. “What fun it will be to break it all in.”

 

Half an hour and several Arthur squeaks later, Eames is sprawled across the bed, pressing Arthur’s knees to his chest and sucking Arthur balls into his mouth, one by one. He takes his time, switching from swallowing Arthur’s cock to flicking against his rim, making sure Arthur is getting the best of everything he has to offer. 

 

His jaw is aching and his neck is sore, but it wouldn’t be a challenge if it was easy, and now, more than ever, he’s determined to see this through. Arthur hooks his hands behind his knees and spread himself wider, moaning when Eames’s tongue slides into his hole, wet and warm. He’s hard again, throbbing between Eames’ lips when he takes him in, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head. He sucks two of his own fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and wet before sliding them into Arthur. 

 

“Jesus, you’re practically wide open,” Eames breathes.

 

Arthur whines, rocking himself on Eames’ fingers. “Fuck me, then. God, please just fuck me.”

 

“I want to, darling, believe me, but we still have one more to go.”

 

Arthur kicks him in the shoulder, gasping when Eames twists his fingers in retaliation. Eames mouths at the head of Arthur’s cock, curling his fingers and pressing against his prostate.

 

“Ah, ah, fuck,” Arthur pants, his body going taut.” Please,”

 

“Come for Daddy, kitten,” Eames whispers, taking Arthur back in while stroking his fingers in and out, rubbing his prostate until Arthur’s coming weakly across his tongue. There isn’t much and Eames swallows it quickly, carefully pulling his fingers out of Arthur’s ass.

 

“I can’t,” Arthus winces, swatting at Eames’ head. “I can’t take anymore. I’m tapped.”

 

“Yes, I think you are,” Eames agrees, wiping his fingers off and crawling up to lay beside Arthur. “Rest for a bit, then we’ll finish.”

 

“I’m serious, I can’t. I know you want to win this thing, but you have to give me at least a couple of hours to recoup.”

 

“No,” Eames says slowly, running a finger down Arthur’s chest. “We’ll finish this now.”

 

Arthur stills, closing his eyes. “Do I need to safeword to get you to hear me?”

 

“Nothing as drastic as that,” Eames assures him, kissing his brow. “I says six rimmings, not six rimmings for Arthur.”

 

Arthur’s eyes fly open. “What does that mean?”

 

“It means, my love, that I will be the recipient of the final act. It is what your little fantasy was about the other day, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Arthur says hesitantly.

 

“And it wasn’t one of those fantasy’s where it’s okay to talk about but not to actually do, right?”

 

“No, but.”

 

“Yes, butt.” Eames grins.

 

“I haven’t done it before,” Arthur admits, colour creeping into his cheeks.

 

“No worries, I’ll walk you through it.” Eames tells him, dropping a kiss on his lips.

 

“Wait, I don’t know about this. I mean, I want to,” Arthur hurries to explain. “But I don’t want to screw it up.”

 

Eames’ smile softens and he kisses Arthur again. “Just Arthur and Eames in here, love. Just you and me, trying something new, yeah?”

 

Arthur relaxes, his hand coming up to hold Eames’ waist. “Yeah.”

 

“Wonderful!” Eames gets to his knees and turns around, taking hold of the headboard and spreading his knees. “Now, there isn’t much to it, just like sucking cock, you want to get it wet and watch your teeth. Also, don’t suffocate.”

 

Arthur huffs a laugh, getting up to press himself along Eames’ back. “You’re a terrible teacher.”

 

“If that’s true we’ll just have to try, try again until you get it right.”

 

“Hmm, that sounds acceptable,” Arthur purrs, backing up and taking Eames’ hips with him. “Right there is good.” 

 

It’s been a very long time since Eames got rimmed, but within seconds he remembers how much he use to enjoy it. Arthur’s efforts remind him of the blowjob in the garage; messy and clumsy, but Eames can’t find it in him to complain when Arthur’s wringing moans out of him like he’s in a bad porno.

 

Arthur’s eagerness makes up for his lack of finesse and he laps at Eames’ hole, his breath hot and moist as he licks a strips up his cleft. His hand slides over Eames’ balls to wrap firmly around his cock, and Eames swears, pushing back against Arthur’s tongue. 

 

“Fuck, darling, ah, yes, fuck,” Eames rasps. He keeps trying to say encouraging things, let Arthur know he’s doing well, but all he can get out are disjointed endearments and gasps.

 

Arthur strokes him faster, his tongue swirling around Eames’ hole like he’s making out with it, and Eames can feel his orgasm start to build. Arthur’s lips are around his rim, and his hand is firm and tight, and when Arthur wriggles his tongue inside, Eames comes hard, cursing a blue streak and ruining his pillow.

 

Arthur falls back on the bed, laughing while Eames takes a minute to catch his breath.

 

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Arthur crows.

 

“I can’t believe how good you are at it.” Eames smiles at him over his shoulder, still gripping the headboard.

 

“We completed our task,” Arthur tucks his hands behind his head. “You know, you should have had me take another week off.”

 

“Why’s that?” Eames asks, sinking down onto the bed and turning to lean against the headboard.

 

“Because we’re both going to need a vacation to recover from this. I’ll walk into work, bruised from head to toe and unable to sit down because I’ve just spent twelve days getting my ass hammered.”

 

“Hmm, you might be right.” Eames closes his eyes and pats Arthur’s ankle. “Get another week off, won’t you?”

  
Arthur laughs and throws one of the decorative pillows at Eames’ head. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”


	7. December 31st-Seven People Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the amazing oceaxe who took time away from her family today look this over for me! Fold out ottoman's are a thing, I swear. Happy New Year to everyone, I hope you are all safe and happy tonight, and that 2017 showers you with love!

Arthur wakes to the smell of bacon and coffee. He pulls on his robe and pads out of the bedroom, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. His body feels light and he can’t seem to keep a smile off his face because they’re halfway through the twelve days and so far he’s kicking ass. Rimming Eames last night had been one of the most exciting things he’s ever done, and he feels a warm sense of accomplishment at having made Eames come so completely undone.

 

“Bugger, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” Eames says, turning at Arthur’s approach.

 

“You’ve forbidden eating in the bed,” Arthur reminds him. “Are you seriously frying bacon in boxers?” 

 

“I have on an apron,” Eames points out as if Arthur could have missed the frilly green fabric barely covering Eames’ chest and groin. “And I’m doing it in the oven. Can never be too careful when one is cooking half naked.”

 

Arthur wraps his arms around Eames from behind, watching over his shoulder as Eames flips a pancake effortlessly. “Where’d you learn to cook?”

 

“My gran. She made sure I could manage all the basics before she kicked me out on my arse.”

 

“She sounds delightful,” Arthur deadpans.

 

“She is,” Eames turns his head to kiss Arthur’s cheek. “She’d love you, pet. You’re both very practical.”

 

“Wait, she’s still alive?” Arthur pulls away. Eames never talks about having family and Arthur just kind of assumed he didn’t have any.

 

“‘Course. Still lives in the house she was born in. Can’t blame her for tossing me out, really, I was twenty-two and had it in my head that staying home to take care of her was more important than following my own dreams.”

 

Arthur pulls a mug off the rack and pours himself a cup of coffee. “Well, you do like caring for people.”

 

Eames grins and pecks Arthur’s nose. “I do, can’t help it. Anyway, she knew I was being a twat and letting my fears get the best of me, so she kicked me out. Forced me to make my own way.”

 

“And it worked?”

 

“No,” Eames laughs. “I was escorted back home four days later, drunk off my ass and nearly charged with being a public nuisance. The next time, though, that’s when it stuck.”

 

“You never visit her.” Arthur sips carefully at his coffee, his good mood slipping away.

 

“Sure I do, I went right after we got together. Remember when I was gone for that month?” Eames transfers the pancakes from the pan to a plate, handing it to Arthur and pouring two more.

 

“You told me you had to go away for work.”

 

“Well, I did work while I was there, but it was mostly to see her. I’m due for another visit, actually. I should call her.” 

 

Arthur takes his plate to the table and sets it down roughly. “How long will you be gone this time?” He can’t help the venom that seeps into his voice. He doesn’t have any family left, but if he did, he’d want Eames to know them. 

 

“Why are you snapping at me?” Eames asks. “You were happy three minutes ago.”

 

“I’m not snapping, I’m just wondering how long you’ll be gone. Are you planning to leave as soon as we’re done with this little game of yours?” Arthur spreads butter over his pancakes, tearing the perfect, fluffy disks with the force of the knife.

 

Eames grabs him by the chin, his fingers digging painfully into Arthur’s jaw when he tries to jerk away. “What the fuck are you on about? Do you seriously think I’d up and leave you like that?”

 

“You did it before,” Arthur spits.

 

Eames laughs harshly. ”Arthur, we barely knew each other then. We’d only just gotten together; was I supposed to take you along with me?”

 

“No,” Arthur pries Eames’ hand off him. “But you could have told me you were going to see her.”

 

Eames shakes his head and goes back to the stove to flip the pancakes. He stays there, silent, while they cook. Arthur shoves his plate away, bristling and drinking his coffee. When Eames comes back to the table with his plate, he gives Arthur a level stare.

 

“It’s not exactly mainstream, what we do. It’s not something I share with many people. You know that’s not because I’m ashamed, but rather because some people just wouldn’t understand. Arthur, as enamoured with you as I was, I couldn’t be sure of how seriously you took what we do. I know better now, but can you blame me for trying to protect myself?”

 

Arthur looks away, hating the hurt he hears behind Eames’ words. “I missed you. Even after that short a time together, I missed you,” he shrugs and turns back to Eames. “At first I thought you were being a coward and it was some ridiculously over the top way of breaking up with me. But you texted me nearly everyday, so then I thought you were just seeing what else was out there before you decided if I was good enough to settle for.”

 

“Darling-”

 

Arthur holds his hand up, silencing Eames. “I know, but you remember how I was then. I was so lost, Eames. Confused and adrift, and the only person who’d ever given me focus and stuck around to care about me afterward had just fled the country. I didn’t know you loved me. Hell, I didn’t know I  _ could _ be loved. But things are different now, and the thought of you leaving me for a month is really overwhelming. I’m sorry, but it is.”

 

“Darling, I’d never leave you behind,” Eames says, reaching across the table for Arthur’s hand. 

 

“What?” Arthur asks, stilling.

 

“You’ll come with me. God knows if I show up without you, Gran wouldn’t let me through the door. She’s wanted to meet you for ages.”

 

“But I didn’t even know she existed,” Arthur protests.

 

“I know, and that’s my fault. I want so badly to keep you to myself that sometimes I try to keep you away from everything else.” Eames looks chagrined.

 

“Sometimes? I didn’t even know what you did for a living until I moved in. And keeping me away from the outside world isn’t exactly healthy, you know?”

 

“I know, and I shall endeavour to be better. Speaking of the outside world, we’re on a tight schedule today so eat up and we’ll get started.” Eames pours syrup over Arthur’s decimated pancakes and switches their plates.

 

“Where’s my box?” he asks, grabbing his plate back and shoving the still-perfect pancakes in front of Eames.

 

“You’ll get it after you eat. I’ll admit I didn’t plan to start the day with an argument, but some things can’t be avoided. Still, you’ll need your strength.”

 

“Are they going to keep getting more physically exhausting? Because I honestly don’t think my body can do six more days of multiple orgasms. I think I’m getting dehydrated.”

 

“Today’s challenge is one of the easiest, while also being one of the most difficult. It’s more of an ‘overcoming your fears’ challenge.”

 

Arthur pauses with a mouthful of food. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, darling.” Eames says, cheerily, taking a bite of his breakfast.

 

Arthur swallows and points his fork at Eames. “Which one of us is facing his fears?”

 

“Both.”

 

Arthur narrows his eyes. “So we’re going to fuck upside down in a room full of geckos?”

 

Eames laughs. “You know, you’re not far off. Eat.”

 

Arthur pouts, but spears another piece of food. “Where’s the bacon?”

 

“Oh, bugger!” Eames jumps up and goes to rescue the bacon from the oven.

 

By some miracle, they manage to keep the smoke detector from going off, but Arthur can’t fake being happy with eating burnt bacon and Eames apologizes a dozen times for ruining it until Arthur has to crawl onto his lap and kiss him to shut him up. He showers, Eames refusing to join him, and when Arthur walks into the bedroom, sans towel, Eames looks like it physically hurts him not to tackle Arthur to the floor.

 

The box is sitting in the middle of the bed so Arthur climbs up and settles cross-legged in front of it. Eames is visibly nervous, watching Arthur closely as he pulls off the top of the box.

 

_ Seven People Watching _

 

“Fuck no,” Arthur says, backing away from the box.

 

“Just let me explain,” Eames tries, stopping him from climbing off the bed.

 

“You don’t have to explain because I’m not doing it.”

 

Eames grabs him by the wrists, holding Arthur in place. “Stop for a minute and listen. While geckos are terrifying, my biggest fear is losing you. Exposing you to others who might steal you away. You struggle with letting people see the real you. Opening yourself up and inviting people in.”

 

Arthur’s mouth falls open. Eames can’t seriously think Arthur’s going to let anyone else be inside him.

 

“That’s not what I mean,” Eames says, correctly reading Arthur’s face. “Only I get to fuck you. But they get to watch.”

 

“And who exactly is ‘they’?” Arthur demands, his hands shaking just from thinking about it.

 

“You’ll never know. I’m going to blindfold you so you can forget all about them and enjoy yourself. But they’re people we know. People who live and understand our lifestyle. They’re safe people, Arthur. Not someone you’re going to run into at work.”

 

Arthur bites his lip, seeing how badly Eames wants him to say yes. “And you’re okay with people watching us? Seeing me naked, getting fucked?”

 

Eames takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s not something I ever thought I’d agree to, but you said it yourself; trying to keep you from the world isn’t healthy. If I can allow others in the room and trust that they won’t come between us, it will settle my worries about you leaving.”

 

“Why do you always think I’m going to leave?” Arthur asks, hating the feeling that he’s doing some unknown thing that makes Eames think he’s not in this all the way.

 

“Because you’re so lovely, darling. I don’t deserve you at all, and yet, somehow, here you are. I live in fear of you coming to your senses.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

Eames smiles. “I know.”

 

“So, hypothetically, if I said yes, what would happen. Can you talk me through it?”

 

“Absolutely,” Eames’ smile widens. “I’ll open you up before anyone gets here. No need for them to bear witness to all that, besides, the noises you make are only for me.” He nuzzles his nose against Arthur’s cheek. “Then I’ll blindfold you and sit you in the living room. They’ll come in all at once, sitting in a circle around us, and then I’ll fuck you. Once we’re done, they’ll leave and I’ll take the blindfold off.”

 

“So, realistically, it should only last about three minutes.”

 

“You little shite,” Eames laughs, pushing Arthur back on the bed and laying down on top of him. “I should put on a cock ring, just to draw it out.”

 

“You’re heavy. How will you fuck me?” Arthur wheezes.

 

Eames tucks his face into Arthur’s neck, nipping at the skin below his ear. “I want you to ride me. You’ll be so gorgeous up there, on display. Just think about it. All those people, watching you writhe and not being able to do anything about it.”

 

Arthur shudders at the words. Eames knows what makes him tick and there’s nothing Arthur likes better than not knowing if the neighbours’ smiles mean that they’re being friendly or that they heard Eames whipping him the night before. 

 

“Okay,” he breathes. “I’ll do it.”

 

“Really?” Eames asks, eyes wide.

 

“But you can’t get all territorial once they’re gone. This is to push both of us so you can’t refuse to let me out of the apartment for a week.”

 

Eames shakes his head. “Of course not. I won’t hoard you, scout’s honour.”

 

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “You were never a scout.”

 

“Details.” Eames waves his hand.

 

“You’re ridiculous. Now get off me so I can go shower.”

 

Eames frowns. “You just got out of the shower.”

 

“Yeah, but I showered for you, not for company. How’s it looking down there, by the way?”

 

“Are you seriously worried about your asshole being aesthetically pleasing to people you’re not even going to see?”

 

Arthur strokes Eames’ face. “I just want to make my Daddy proud.”

 

Eames growls and kisses him. “Come on, I’ll join you and get you all pretty and pink for our visitors.”

 

An hour later, Arthur’s kneeling beside the ottoman, which Eames has open up to utilize the fold out bed hiding inside. There’s supposedly a ring of chairs around the bed, giving their guests a clear view of Arthur while he gets fucked. He jumps at the knock on the door and Eames tilts his head up to kiss him, smoothing his hair back and checking the blindfold.

 

“Here we go, pet.”

 

Arthur shivers, digging his nails into his thighs. He’s pretty sure his back is to the door, but he still feels on display as people shuffle in silently. He can hear the ruffling of their clothing but there’s no clink of jewellery or scent of perfume. Eames was serious about Arthur never knowing who was involved, and the fact that these people followed Eames’ instructions means they understand what he and Arthur are trying to accomplish.

 

He takes a deep breath as his viewers settle into the chairs. Eames’ hand brushes through his hair and he sits on the side of the cot, his legs spread to accommodate Arthur. His pulse picks up when Eames’ thumb rubs over his lips, and Arthur opens up, letting Eames slide over his tongue.

 

“Good boy,” Eames praises quietly, tension evident in his voice.

 

Arthur curls his tongue around the thumb, shuffling closer. Eames is just as nervous as he is, Arthur can tell by his laboured breathing, but Eames is the one who has to see all these people watching them. Arthur gets to hide behind the blindfold and hopefully let himself go. The only way to get Eames to relax is to show him Arthur’s enjoying himself, and there’s no way he can fake it. He takes another breath and lets it out through his nose, biting down gently on Eames’ thumb.

 

Eames’ other hand comes up to cup the back of his skull, and Arthur goes willingly when he pulls him forward, trading Eames’ thumb for his cock. He’s still mostly soft, and Arthur loves him that way. When he can lap and suckle, coaxing Eames into full hardness on his tongue. He rubs his lips against Eames’ foreskin, making his breath hitch. Arthur smiles, taking him in deeper and sucking gently, moaning when Eames starts to thicken and he can bob his head a little. 

 

Eames’ hands are on either side of Arthur’s head, but he’s letting Arthur control the pace, fingernails scratching against Arthur’s scalp when he does something Eames likes. Arthur glides his mouth over Eames in long, slow strokes, trying to relax them both. Someone shifts in their chair and Arthur startles a little, taking Eames in too deep, too quick, and gagging. Eames pulls him off, shushing him. He wipes spittle away from Arthur’s mouth, then sets him back to task, this time moving Arthur’s head how he wants it, plunging into his mouth, quick and shallow.

 

Arthur’s just getting into it, rubbing his tongue over Eames’ shaft as much as he can, when Eames hoists him up by his arms, making him stand while he returns the favour. Arthur knows he’s flushed because he can feel the warmth of his shame spreading across his face and chest. Eames makes a pleased noise in his throat when Arthur’s cock twitches and starts to leak. He can practically feel the eyes on him and his embarrassment only feeds his lust.

 

Eames strokes his hand over Arthur’s ass, dipping into his crack and rubbing over his hole. He’d prepped Arthur thoroughly in the shower, then again before the others arrived, wanting to make sure they wouldn’t have to stop once they got down to it, potentially pulling them both out of the moment enough to let their fears get the best of them. Arthur spreads his legs and moans when Eames slides two finger in all the way. His hands go to Eames’ shoulders, gripping the hard muscles and using them as leverage to push himself down on the fingers.

 

Eames starts to thrust, pulling all the way out before sinking in as deep as he can and sucking gently at Arthur’s cock. Arthur curls over him, panting.

 

Eames pulls off, fingers buried deep in Arthur’s ass. “Stand up,” he barks.

 

Arthur responds immediately, squaring his shoulders and clenching his ass around the intrusion.

 

“Such a good boy,” Eames murmurs, mouthing at Arthur’s shaft. “Do you want me to fuck you now, darling?”

 

Arthur whines. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

“What do you say?”

 

“Please, Daddy,” Arthur pants, gasping and fighting to stay upright when Eames finds his prostate. “Please fuck me, now.”

 

“You’re gorgeous like this,” Eames whispers, removing his fingers and taking Arthur’s hand, keeping them linked while he gets settled on the bed. Arthur hears the snap of lube and he whines. “Patience, kitten. Daddy’s just slicking up so he doesn’t hurt you.”

 

Arthur starts to fidget, feeling eyes on him once again. “Daddy-”

 

“Come here,” Eames tugs on his hand and Arthur scrambles onto the cot, reaching out for Eames with his other hand. “That’s it, just a little further.” Eames coaxes, helping Arthur straddle his hips. 

 

Someone clears their throat and Arthur stills, feeling exposed and on display. He turns his head left and right, trying to sense where the others are seated.

 

“Hey,” Eames says quietly, pulling Arthur down to him. “Hey, I’m right here. I’m the only one you need to concern yourself with, yeah?”

 

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut behind the blindfold and bites his lip, whining low in his throat. He’s losing his erection and his mind is filling with a million reasons why this is going to ruin his life.

 

“Arthur,” Eames barks, and he tries to respond, really he does, but his breath is coming in short bursts and there’s a buzzing in his ears because if all these people are watching him, who’s to say they’re not filming him, and he could lose his job, he could lose his life, he could lose Eames, all because he couldn’t-

 

The slap is quick and hard, nearly unseating him, but Eames is right there, sitting up and demanding his attention, pulling Arthur out of his own mind and back into the moment they’ve created. Eames’ lips are soft, but insistent on his, pressing in, over and over, until Arthur’s breath evens out and he can respond in kind.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers, angry and ashamed, and not at all in the way he likes.

 

“Shh, shh, it’s alright, you’re safe here, love. Daddy’s right here with you, yeah?”

 

Arthur nods, arching his neck into Eames’ kisses. “Yeah. I’m here, I’m here.”

 

Eames cradles him in his arms, dragging Arthur closer until his cock is laying, hard and thick against his ass. Arthur reaches back, taking hold of it and lining it up with his hole, using Eames to steady himself as he slips the head in, sighing.

 

“Daddy, please,” Arthur begs, suddenly needing Eames to fuck him immediately.

 

“You do this part, love. Show Daddy how much you want it.” Eames’ lips are back at his neck, biting gently as Arthur eases himself down with breathy little moans. He rocks his hips once Eames is in all the way, gasping at the friction when he rises up and sinks back down slowly.

 

Eames growls, gripping the back of Arthur’s neck and thrusting up. Eames kisses him wetly and lays back, leaving Arthur upright and alone, on full view of the others. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped moving until Eames pushes up, dragging the head of his cock over Arthur’s prostate.

 

“Fuck,” Arthur grunts, bracing his arms on Eames’ chest and grinding down.

 

“Language,” Eames laughs, pushing Arthur back up.

 

Arthur rolls his hips, groaning. “Sorry, Daddy.” 

 

Eames feels impossibly huge inside him like this, and even though Arthur has more control over their movements, he feels trapped; pinned in place by Eames’ cock, forced to wriggle and endure while he fucks himself to completion.

 

“Gorgeous,” Eames breathes, hands tight on Arthur’s hips, keeping him moving.

 

Arthur focuses on the push and pull of Eames inside him, clenching down just to hear Eames react. He slides his hands over the smooth skin of his neck and chest, flicking his nipples and dipping into his navel to make himself shiver. His cock is leaking and he swipes his index finger over the head, lapping it off slowly. Someone shifts in their seat again and Arthur gives a small smile, collecting more and rubbing it over Eames lips, slamming himself down harder when Eames bites at his fingertips. 

 

“Yes,” he hisses, bouncing now, meeting Eames’ thrusts. “Harder, Daddy, please.”

 

Eames knees come up behind him, pushing him forward and allowing Eames to snap his hips up, driving his cock into Arthur again and again. Arthur cries out and Eames grabs his hands, lacing their fingers and holding Arthur in place as he rams his prostate. 

 

Arthur relaxes and lets Eames take over, his mouth hanging open as Eames fucks him until he feels like he’s going to scream. He can’t worry about who else is in the room when Eames feels so big and so perfect inside him, growling Arthur’s name and rubbing his thumbs over Arthur’s knuckles. 

 

“Come for Daddy, kitten,” Eames pants, guiding Arthur’s right hand to his cock. His fingers close over Arthur’s and they stroke together, tight and quick, bringing Arthur closer and closer by the second. Eames never stops fucking him, and when Arthur sobs out a broken ‘Daddy’ and comes all over their hands, Eames doesn’t even slow down. He keeps shoving into Arthur, gritting his teeth against the tightness and forcing his way inside, using his other hand to slam Arthur down, his hips smacking against Arthur’s ass loudly.

 

Arthur rallies once he’s finished coming, bracing himself once again on Eames’ chest as he spreads his knees wider and pushes back, taking him as deep as he can.

 

“Come on, Daddy, fill me up,” he whispers, hearing Eames’ breath catch. Usually by now, Arthur has gone boneless and Eames can arrange him however he wants and pound away until he’s sated. But Arthur’s here to perform. To let go and have people notice him, so he bounces on Eames’ cock, gritting his teeth against the shock of oversensitivity when Eames hits his prostate again, and squeezing hard, trying to work Eames’ orgasm out.

 

“Arthur,” Eames chokes out, driving up until his ass in off the bed and Arthur’s forced to dig in his nails or fall off. He can feel Eames coming, his cock throbbing and filling him with warm spunk. He shudders with pleasure, trying to rock down on him, but Eames stills his hips, thrusting with short, sharp jerks as he comes. 

 

He lets out a loud breath and lowers them back down, petting at Arthur’s thighs. Arthur falls forward, curling his fists under his chin and snuggling against Eames. Arthur jumps when the door shuts, having drifted off post-coitus in a room full of people. Eames pulls the blindfold off and his face is so full of love and wonder it makes Arthur blush.

 

“What?” he asks, trying to duck his head.

 

Eames cups his jaw and kisses him. “You were glorious.”

 

“I freaked out a little,” he protests.

 

“But you calmed down. Then you put on the sexiest fucking display I’ve ever seen. Jesus, Arthur, where did that come from?”

 

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I just wanted to do well for you.”

 

“You were brilliant,” Eames breathes, kissing him again then pressing Arthur head back down and wrapping his arms around him. Arthur squirms when Eames slips out, making a face at the come he can feel trickling out. 

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. But we never have to do that again, right?”

 

Eames laughs. “Fuck no. And if we do, I’m selling tickets.”


	8. January 1st-Eight Hours Submitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter includes a bdsm-style beating, including, but not limited to slapping and use of a crop.
> 
> This chapter is also a day late and unbeta'd because life. I am working to catch up, but I can't guarantee that they won't all be a day later than they should be from here to the end, but I will finish this story, have no fear!

**January 1: Eight Hours Submitting**

 

Eames pulls back the covers slowly, pausing when Arthur shifts in his sleep. He’s spent the last half hour nudging Arthur onto his stomach without waking him and now he’s ready to start the day. The box is on his pillow, just waiting for Arthur to wake up and embrace the challenge inside. Eames knows he will; it’s been a long week for both of them and Arthur has to be aching for something more familiar. 

 

Eames settles on his knees beside him, biting his lip in anticipation as he draws his hand back and brings it down on Arthur’s ass with a loud smack. Arthur gasps awake, trying to roll over and away, but Eames holds him down with an arm across his back, spanking him again, just as hard on the other cheek. By the fourth slap Arthur groaning and pushing back into it, fighting against Eames’ hold to arch his back and stick his ass in the air. Eames chuckles and rubs over the redness he’s left behind. Arthur keens and he hits him again, layering his slaps until both cheeks are warm to the touch.

 

“Good morning, kitten,” Eames says, scratching his nails down Arthur’s back.

 

Arthur shivers and grunts. Eames pinches the inside of his upper thigh, eliciting a yelp of pain.

 

“I said, good morning, kitten.”

 

Arthur turns to Eames with a disgruntled frown. “G'morning, Daddy.”

 

Eames pets his hair and nods towards the pillow. “Your box is ready.” 

 

“May I open it, Daddy?” Arthur pushes up onto his elbows and Eames smiles. He knew Arthur needed this.

 

“Go on, then.”

 

Arthur pulls the lid off the box and grins, his whole face lighting up. He buries his smile in his pillow, kicking his feet against the bed.

 

Eames laughs. “You’re pleased.” 

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur says, dragging himself closer and curling up with his head in Eames’ lap.

 

“Good. But it’s still a challenge, love. We’ll be trying a few things we’ve never done before,” Eames warns, scratching behind Arthur’s ear.

 

Arthur makes a pleased noise that sounds suspiciously like a purr and presses into his hand. 

 

“Come on, time to get up. Daddy will make you breakfast.” Eames slaps playfully at his ass and Arthur sucks in a sharp breath. He waits on the bed while Eames collects a pair of boxer briefs and knee pads. A giggle slips out of Arthur when Eames pulls the first one on and Eames looks up sharply.

 

“Do I need to make you slither into the kitchen on your belly, or are you going to behave?”

 

Arthur presses his lips together and lowers his gaze. “I’ll be good. I’m just excited.”

 

“I know this week has been hard, but you’ve done so well, darling. Daddy is so proud of you.”

 

Arthur beams at him, leaning forward to nuzzle against Eames’ chest. “You’ve been incredible, Daddy. You take such good care of me.”

 

Eames combs his hand through Arthur’s hair, holding him close, his throat full of emotion. He’s worked so hard to get them here, to where he can be certain that Arthur wants to be his, and hearing that Arthur is happy to be beside him in this makes him swell with pride. He makes a flash decision and tilts Arthur head up.

 

“I’ve bought you something special. I was going to save it for later, but I think it suits the day nicely.”

 

Arthur pulls back. “What is it?” he asks, eagerly.

 

Eames chuckles and slips the second knee pad over Arthur’s foot. “You’ll see. Let’s go.” 

 

He snaps his fingers and Arthur slides to his hands and knees on the floor, crawling beside Eames to the kitchen. He’s never been able to figure out how Arthur’s so light and graceful on all fours, but he enjoys it immensely. Everyone else Eames has put in that position have been awkward and clumsy, clearly in an unnatural state, but Arthur looks like he was made to walk on all fours. His body is sleek and trim, his ass swaying in time with his movements. Eames nearly walks into the doorjamb, he’s so distracted watching him.

 

Arthur snickers and Eames tsks, rubbing the top of his foot on Arthur’s belly and pushing him onto his knees.

 

“Stay here, pet, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

 

Arthur folds his hands in his lap and and watches him leave. He’s rarely so quick to fall into this kind of play and Eames is thankful he thought to include it. Not only is it one of his favourites, but Arthur clearly needs it and had no intention of asking for it. He unlocks the bottom drawer of the chest, stroking his fingers over the leather case nestled at the front, before pulling out the new restraint. It’s soft, but well built and Arthur’s going to look so fucking perfect in it that he goes hard just thinking about it.

 

Arthur’s clearly been watching the door while he was gone and a smile lights his face when Eames comes into view. 

 

“Miss me?”

 

“Always, Daddy.” The tips of Arthur’s ears go pink, but he doesn’t look away. 

 

Eames strokes the back of his fingers over Arthur’s cheek and shows him the restraint. “You’ll have to crawl on only your knees, but you can do that for Daddy, can’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Arthur agrees, sitting up and crossing his wrists over the small of his back.

 

“Beautiful,” Eames praises. He opens the buckle on the collar and wraps it around Arthur’s neck with shaking hands. This is so close to what he wants and Arthur looks so eager and pleased that he’s tempted once again to throw everything out the window and skip to the end right now. His fingers slips on the buckle and Arthur coughs at the tightness. Eames loosens the collar, brushing his thumb over Arthur’s lips in apology. He moves behind Arthur, adjusting the length of the strap that runs down his back to reach his wrists. The soft padded cuffs bind Arthur, one wrist on top of the other, so if he fidgets or pulls at them, they in turn pull against the cuff at his neck. He struggles at first, just enough to test out the restraint, then settles with a content sigh.

 

“Good?” Eames asks, moving around to face him.

 

“Perfect, Daddy. Thank you.”

 

Eames kisses his brow then sets about making breakfast. He fries up some ham, making sure Arthur’s far enough from the stove that he won’t get hit with anything from the pan, and cuts up some fruit, humming to himself. He can feel Arthur’s eyes on him the whole time, following Eames across the kitchen as he makes coffee and pops the bread in the toaster. 

 

He cuts the ham up into little pieces and adds the toast, setting them on the table with the bowl of fruit. Once he’s fixed the coffee he snaps his fingers at Arthur, watching him shuffle across the floor to the table. He kneels at Eames’ feet, looking up at him serenely. He opens his mouth when Eames picks up a piece of ham, chewing slowly when it’s placed on his tongue. 

 

By the time they get to the fruit, Arthur’s shifting from knee to knee to relieve his discomfort. Eames ignores him, letting him sip from the mug of coffee and placing a strawberry half on his palm for Arthur to claim. Arthur’s lips are soft against his palm and Eames runs a hand through his hair.

 

“Perhaps we need to do this more often. Build up your tolerance,” he says, enjoying the scowl Arthur sends him.

 

“I’m fine,” Arthur says once he’s swallowed.

 

Eames raises his eyebrows and puts a grape in his palm. “Yeah? So you can stay on your knees for the rest of the day then?” 

 

“If that’s what you tell me to do.” Arthur takes the grape, his teeth scraping across Eames’ skin.

 

“You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you? It’s a good thing Daddy knows you so well or you’d damage yourself on a regular basis.”

 

“I like it when you damage me,” Arthur tells him with a smirk.

 

Eames grabs him by the hair, shaking him sharply. “Is that what you want, darling? You want Daddy to knock you about for a bit?”

 

“Yes,” Arthur’s breathes, his eyes falling shut.

 

Eames releases him suddenly, plucking a strawberry from the bowl and popping it in his mouth. Arthur glares at him while he chews.

 

“Be a good boy and Daddy will listen to what you want. Eight Hours Submitting, darling. We’ve barely begun and you need to earn the right to make requests, you know that.”

 

Arthur glares harder, then leans forward to take the strawberry Eames holds out, nipping at the tips of his fingers.

 

“Angry kitten,” Eames scolds, sucking strawberry juice off his thumb. He picks up a slice of peach and holds it against Arthur’s mouth, working it inside and smiling when Arthur gives in and takes a bite. The peach is ripe and Arthur’s tongue comes out to chase the juice that drips over his chin.

 

“Messy kitten,” Eames amends, clucking his tongue. Arthur growls, but he lets Eames feed him another slice, this time letting the juice drip down onto his bare chest.

 

By the time to bowl is empty, Arthur’s a delightful mess and Eames is half hard as Arthur licks juice off his hand, his tongue sliding between Eames’ fingers as he looks up at him coyly. Eames pulls Arthur into his lap and ducks his head to Arthur’s chest, returning the favour and licking the fruit juice from his skin. Arthur arches his neck, shuddering when Eames’ licking turns to sucking, and then to biting. He groans as Eames’ tongue slides over his chin and into his mouth.

 

Eames pulls back, holding Arthur back when he tries to follow Eames’ mouth. “That’s all you get for now.”

 

Arthur immediately stops struggling. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

Eames leads him slowly into the bathroom, watching Arthur carefully for signs that he’s in actual pain. He lets him sit on the closed toilet seat while he runs a warm cloth over his skin. He wants Arthur happy and relaxed, and today that means clean. Kittens don’t tolerate stickiness, after all.

 

He takes off the restraint just long enough to dress Arthur, rolling up the cuffs of his oxford so they won’t interfere with the restraints. The open collar leaves plenty of room to ensure the strap lays flat and doesn’t pull his neck back. Arthur frowns when Eames puts on his socks, but Eames ignores him, pulling jeans up over his knee pads. When he goes to the closet for the lead, Arthur stands up.

 

“Arthur,” Eames warns, his voice hard. 

 

Arthur hisses at him and it’s so unintentionally adorable Eames nearly laughs. He approaches slowly, watching Arthur’s eyes flick to the open doorway.

 

“Don’t,” Eames tells him then rushes forward, forcing Arthur onto his back on the bed. Arthur kicks out, but with his arms bound behind him, it’s not hard to get the lead attached to the collar before Arthur can get away. When he does get free, Eames jerks the lead back, choking Arthur and taking him to his knees. Eames get him to the floor on his front, Arthur’s face pressed to the hardwood as he spits and hisses. Eames lays down on top of him, crushing all the air out of Arthur’s chest and making shushing noises until Arthur grows tired and stills.

 

“I told you we’d be trying new things today, pet.”

 

“Not this, please, Daddy,” Arthur pleads, his voice tight.

 

“Yes, this. Daddy wants you on a lead and you will submit or I will make you wear the ears and tail as well.”

 

Arthur shudders and squirms under him. “People will see.”

 

“Yes, they will. And they’ll think ‘What a lovely kitten that man has. Look how good he is for his Daddy. Isn’t that what you wanted, darling? For people to look at you and know you belong to me?”

 

Arthur presses his forehead to the floor and blows out a noisy breath.

 

“Arthur?”

 

“Fine,” he croaks.

 

“What was that?” Eames asks, leaning down to set his teeth against the curve of Arthur’s ear.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur whispers, his voice thick.

 

“That’s better.” Eames gets up, tugging on the lead until Arthur’s struggled to his knees. “We’ve been holed up in the flat for too long and I thought a walk would do us some good. Doesn’t that sound nice, kitten?”

 

Arthur gives him a distruntled look. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

Eames leads Arthur to the front door, helping him into his shoes and draping his black pea coat over his shoulders. He frowns when it’s too small to button over Arthur’s bound arms and trades it for one of his own, cupping Arthur cheek when he makes a pleased noise. It closes neatly over Arthur’s chest and the lead blends into the darkness of the coat until Eames picks it up again.

 

“Come along,” Eames pulls on the lead, urging Arthur forward. He’s resistant and throws his head back, refusing to cross the threshold of the flat.

 

“Do I need to get the ears, Arthur? Because I will,” Eames says quietly, pressing into Arthur’s personal space. “I’ll turn you over my knee right here and pull down your pants to shove the plug in. Maybe I’ll let the neighbours pet you pretty tail before we go. This is your last warning, do you understand?”

 

Arthur nods, eyes wide. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

Eames turns aside and Arthur steps into the hallway, head down. Eames allows it until they step onto the sidewalk in the weak sunshine. He tips Arthur’s head up with a finger under his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

 

“You will keep your head up. You will smile politely and you will do as I say. You will not struggle. You will not speak unless I give you permission, and you will not make Daddy regret allowing you out today, is that understood?”

 

“Yes, Daddy.” Arthur’s voice is shakey, but his pupils are blown.

 

“Do you need Daddy to adjust you or can you control yourself?”

 

“I can control myself,” Arthur promises, taking a deep breath.

 

“Good boy.”

 

Eames wraps the lead around his fist and starts walking, enjoying the mild day and Arthur’s presence at his side. He put up less of a fight than Eames thought he would and he thinks next time he may add a bell to the collar, just to make Arthur bristle. 

 

They stop into the coffee shop in their building where Arthur first came into Eames’ life, and Eames buys a latte to go, ignoring the stare the barista gives Arthur. Arthur gives the woman a small smile and flushes. She’s new and not used to them yet, but the owner comes over to greet them, nodding to Arthur and speaking only to Eames. Eames has known Mal for years and she’d been one of the participants in their challenge the day before, along with her husband Dom. Mal comes out from behind the counter while Eames waits for his coffee.

 

“Aren’t you a pretty kitty, Arthur?” Mal asks quietly, only reaching out to pet at his hair after Eames nods.

 

Arthur’s eyes flutter closed at the touch and he leans his head into her hand and shudders.

 

“So docile,” Mal says, smiling at Eames.

 

“At times,” Eames allows. “But don’t let him fool you; his claws are sharp.”

 

“I don’t doubt it,” Mal laughs, scratching behind Arthur’s ears.

 

“That’s enough,” Eames says, pulling on Arthur’s lead and bringing him closer.

 

“Forgive me,” Mal folds her hands in front of her. “He’s lovely, Eames. You must be so proud.”

 

“I haven’t the words,” Eames says, looking at Arthur.

 

Arthur ducks his head and Mal gives him a knowing smile, her fingers going to her throat and raising an eyebrow. Eames gives her a sharp frown and shakes his head.

 

“Lovely to see you, Mal,” he says gruffly, taking his cup off the bar.

 

Mal laughs, and waves them off. Eames sulks for a few minutes until he realizes he has nothing to be upset about. Mal knows him well and knows he’s never been with someone as long as he’s been with Arthur. She was the first one to point out that Arthur is different. That Eames is different with him and how well they fit together. 

 

Arthur paws at Eames’ hip and he’s startled when he notices he’s wrapped the lead around his fist numerous times and Arthur’s forced to bend at the waist while they walk to keep up.

Eames unravels the lead and checks Arthur’s neck. It’s chafed a little at the back and Eames curses himself for getting distracted. 

 

“I’m sorry, darling. Daddy didn’t mean to hurt you.” Eames runs his hand through Arthur’s hair, letting him tuck his face under Eames’ chin and lick at his neck. Eames runs a hand down his back, following the line of the restraint and Arthur whimpers.

 

“Just a little longer, yeah? You’re doing brilliantly.” Eames tells him, eliciting a purr from Arthur.

 

Eames walks him to the park, sitting Arthur beside him on the bench as they people watch. Arthur lays his head on Eames shoulder and Eames lets the lead fall between them, curving his hand over Arthur’s knee. Arthur’s not big on public displays of affections, but Eames can get away with a little bit when he’s like this. Before long, a little girl approaches them, staring at Arthur. Eames looks around for her parents, but no one else seems to be paying her any mind so he smiles and says hello.

 

“Why is he wearing a leash?” the girls asks.

 

Arthur stiffens beside him and Eames squeezes his knee gently to reassure him.

 

“How old are you?” Eames asks.

 

She crosses her arms. “I asked first.”

 

“Indeed you did,” Eames allows. “He’s wearing a leash because today, he’s a cat.”

 

“He’s not a cat, he’s a man.”

 

“If he’s a man, why does he have a leash?” Eames challenges.

 

She thinks on that a minute, studying Arthur from a few feet away. “Where are his ears then?”

 

“Well, he doesn’t show those to just anyone, you know. You have to earn it.” Eames feels Arthur rub his cheek against his shoulder.

 

“Oh,” she says, nodding. “I have a cat at home.”

 

“Do you? What’s your cat’s name?” 

 

“Sprinkles.”

 

“Ah, that’s a lovely name for a cat,” Eames tells her, smiling.

 

“What’s your cat’s name?” She asks, her eyes going back to Arthur.

 

“His name is Arthur.”

 

She scrunches up her nose. “That’s not a good cat name.”

 

“But it is an excellent name for a man who is also a cat,” he points out.

 

She thinks about that for a minute, then nods. “Does he talk?”

 

“Of course he talks,” Eames says, nudging Arthur.

 

Arthur gives him a displeased look, but turns to the girl. “Meow.”

 

The girl giggles. “He really is a cat!”

 

“I told you,” Eames says and from the corner of his eye he sees Arthur give her a small smile.

 

“Sometimes I pretend to be a cat. Is that how he became one?”

 

“No,” Eames smiles, wrapping his arm around Arthur. “He was born this way.”

 

“Ohhh,” she says. 

 

“Will your parents be missing you?” Eames asks as two people appear in the distance, clearly searching for someone.

 

“Oh, yeah. I should go. It was nice to meet your Arthur-cat!”

 

Eames chuckles as she runs off, waving at her parents from across the park. “Time to go, darling.”

 

Arthur gets to his feet and stretches as much as he’s able, arching his back.

 

Eames hums, watching him. “I want to fuck you in those restraints,” he blurts out.

 

Arthur smirks and starts walking backwards, the lead falling from the bench to hang down his front. Eames runs to catch up, pulling on the lead until Arthur’s close enough to kiss. He’s aware that they’re still in public, so he pulls back instead and leads the way home. 

 

He undresses Arthur slowly once they’re home, stripping him back down to his underwear and restraints. He leaves the lead on, taking Arthur into the living room with him and letting him sit at his feet while Eames finds a movie on tv.

 

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to slink his way onto the couch, laying down with his head in Eames’ lap. Eames pets at him, raising goosebumps over Arthur’s arms and back. When Arthur starts to nuzzle his nose into Eames’ crotch, Eames shoves his face away, telling him sternly to stop. But Arthur’s nothing if not stubborn, and soon he’s mouthing at the front of Eames’ jeans, delivering little kitten licks to the skin above his waistband.

 

“Arthur,” Eames warns, tugging him back by the collar. “None of that. Sit and watch the movie with Daddy.”

 

Arthur huffs and rolls onto his stomach. Eames knows what’s coming and he doesn’t have to wait long before Arthur starts rocking against the couch, dragging his cock over the cushion, mewling quietly. 

 

Eames jerks the lead. “Stop.”

 

Arthur hisses at him and speeds up. Eames surges up and pulls him off the couch, letting Arthur fall to the floor in a heap.

 

“Daddy said stop,” he says calm, but firm.

 

Arthur glares up at him, struggling to get to his knees in the small space.

 

“Are you going to stop?”

 

Arthur shakes his head so Eames grabs him by the hair, dragging him to the empty corner. He presses Arthur’s face to the floor. “Stay.”

 

As soon as he’s stepped away, Arthur moves, following him across the floor. Eames pushes him back into the corner, once again pressing Arthur’s face down, squeezing the back of his neck tightly.

 

“Stay here. You’re being a very naughty kitty.”

 

Arthur hisses, trying to roll out of Eames’ grasp. Eames kicks him in the stomach, just hard enough for Arthur to gasp and curl into a ball.

 

“Are you going to listen to Daddy now?” Eames asks, kneeling on Arthur’s hip to keep him down.

 

“Fuck you,” Arthur spits and Eames slaps him across the face. Arthur’s eyelids flutter and he groans.

 

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Eames asks, his voice gone husky. As much as he loves Arthur’s obedience, he lives to bring out the fight in him. Arthur when he’s aching for a strong hand is the most beautiful creature Eames has ever encountered. He’ll spit and claw, pushing back until the bitter end when Eames has beat the fight out of him.

This Arthur is the one Eames met their first night together and it’s this spark that made Eames never want to let him go. Arthur, struggling against Eames, practically begging to be dominated, taking it so well when Eames finally gains the upper hand. He always makes Eames work for it, and the release it brings them both is beyond anything Eames has ever felt before.

 

Eames pulls him up by the lead, grabbing hold of one of Arthur’s arms and hauling him over to the platform. He throws Arthur to the floor and grabs the leg spreader from the wall. As soon as Arthur sees it, he tries to roll off the platform. Eames hauls him back by the restraint, making Arthur cry out when it put strain on his shoulders. 

 

“You want to be a brat, I’ll treat you like one,” Eames tells him, forcing him down on his stomach and sitting on his upper thighs. Arthur’s nails scratch at his back, slipping under Eames’ shirt where it’s riding up as he leans forward to attach the bar to first one, then the other leg. 

 

He swears when Arthur draws blood and pulls back on the bar, making Arthur whimper. He drops Arthur’s legs and gets up, using his foot to push Arthur down when he tries to struggle back to his knees.

 

“Stay put,” he commands and goes to the other side of the room to get the wedge from where they left it after the fourth day.

 

Arthur’s halfway off the platform again by the time Eames turns back around. He exhales loudly through his mouth and opens the ches, returning and using the bar to drag Arthur back. Arthur grunts when his chest collides with the edge of the platform, but he doesn’t complain. Eames rolls him onto his back, kneeling over Arthur’s thighs and using the shears he grabbed to cut the underwear away. Arthur’s mostly hard so Eames takes his balls in his hand and squeezes. Arthur shouts, trying to curl into himself. Eames pushes him back down, squeezing harder.

 

“If this is going to cause you to lash out, Arthur, I’m going to remove it from the equation.” Eames tells him over the sound of his whimpers. When Arthur’s soft enough, Eames slips his cock into the plastic shell, snapping it closed and locking it into place.

 

“I’ll be good, I promise,” Arthur pants, colour high in his cheeks.

 

“It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. You’ve made Daddy angry and now he has to punish you.” Eames gets up and replaces the shears. When he gets back to the platform he drops the wedge in the middle and turns back to Arthur.

 

“Please, Daddy,” Arthur says, arching his hips off the floor.

 

“Please what?” Eames stands over him, one foot on either side of Arthur’s hips.

 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, struggling against the restraints. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Daddy hears you, dear, but you’ve gone too far for me to let it go. Daddy needs to show you what happens to kittens who are bad, doesn’t he?” Eames crouches, running his nail over Arthur nipple.

 

“Yes,” Arthur hisses.

 

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it, darling? You want Daddy to punish you. To put you in your place.” He pinches the nipple, twisting until Arthur cries out.

 

“Yes, yes, Daddy. Please.”

 

“What do you want Daddy to do, hmm? What is it that Arthur needs?” Eames coos, scratching down over the soft and vulnerable skin of Arthur’s belly.

 

“Anything you want,” Arthur says, curling his torso up. “ _ Please _ .”

 

Eames runs his hand through Arthur’s hair, watching his eyes slip closed. As soon as Arthur starts to relax Eames slaps him, rocking his head violently to the side. Arthur smiles up at him, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

 

“You’ll be the death of me,” Eames says and rises to his feet, picking Arthur up under his arms and throwing him over the wedge, legs spread and ass in the air. “You want Daddy’s mark on you, is that it?” 

 

Arthur whines into the fabric covering the wedge. 

 

“Want Daddy to claim you as his own.”

 

“Yes,” Arthur rasps.

 

“I see. I suppose you want the paddle, too. It’s your favourite, isn’t it?” Eames runs his fingers over the paddles hanging on the wall. “Maybe the studded one?”

 

He smiles when Arthur keens, and chooses his tool. The spreader bar has him open just enough that Eames can glimpse the tight, pink hole between his cheeks. His cock throbs in his pants and he has to stop to adjust himself. Arthur squirms in the silence, trying to turn his head to see what Eames is doing. Eames brings the crop down on Arthur’s thigh, the thin whistle of the leather through the air Arthur’s only warning.

 

“Fuck,” Arthur sobs, his whole body jerking.

 

“Language,” Eames reminds him and hits him again, on the other thigh. 

 

Arthur’s flesh is already puffing up, leaving lovely white welts where the crop has kissed him. The next smack is to his left cheek, making it bounce. Eames runs the head of the crop roughly over Arthur’s hole, then strikes the other side, creating a mirror image.

 

“This isn’t about what you like, pet,” Eames tells him, bringing the crop down twice in succession in the same spot. “It’s about what Daddy chooses to give you,” he continues over Arthur’s choked sobs. “And Daddy wants you to feel it in the morning. You see, tomorrow we’re going out again.” Another hit, then a pause and another, an inch higher. “And Daddy wants everyone to see the marks you begged him to leave on you.”

 

Eames stops to rub at the welts, watching them turn from white to red under his hand. He goes down to his knees and bites Arthur’s cheek, making him cry out and jerk between Eames’ teeth.

 

“That mark had almost faded,” Eames explains, running his fingers over the deep indent he’s left behind. “I really liked that one.”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur gasps raggedly.

 

“Had enough?” Eames asks, taking in Arthur’s tear streaked face.

 

“N-not yet,” he says, pulling his knees up and forcing his ass out.

 

“You beautiful boy.” Eames pushes the hair off his brow.

 

“Yours,” Arthur reminds him pointedly.

 

“Yes, mine.” Eames’s heart feels about to burst and he gets back to his feet, switching the crop for a flat, leather paddle and covering every inch of skin he’s already abused. Arthur grunts through it, never complaining, and Eames knows if it weren’t for the lock, he’d have come by now.

 

He lays the paddle aside and unzips his jeans, Arthur’s head whipping up at the noise. Eames pulls himself out and starts stroking.

 

“Please,” Arthur whines, struggling.

 

“What, kitten?” Eames asks, enjoying Arthur’s frustration.

 

“Fuck me, Daddy,” he pleads. “Please!”

 

“Fuck you where? Tell Daddy what you want.”

 

“Anywhere,” Arthur pants, trying again to turn his head. “Please, I need you inside me.”

 

“Ah, but this is about what Daddy choses to give you, isn’t it?”

 

Arthur groans and kicks his legs, nearly falling off the wedge. Eames steadies him with a hand on his ass, kneading the hot flesh, spreading Arthur open and rubbing his palm over the head of his cock.

 

“You’re so lovely,” Eames tells him. “So willing.”

 

“Yes, yes, please!”

 

“No, darling, this is enough.”

 

“No, it’s fucking not!” Arthur spits.

 

Eames slaps his open palm over Arthur’s ass, digging his fingers in until Arthur hisses. “Language,” he says mildly, speeding up.

 

“Please, just fuck me. I need you, Daddy,”

 

“And you have me,” Eames tells him, his voice catching as his pleasure ratchets up. Having Arthur beg always does this to him. Gets him there much quicker than normal. Usually when he knows he’s going to make Arthur plead for him, he wears a cockring and doesn’t take it off until Arthur’s screamed himself hoarse.

 

“I’ll do anything, please!” Arthur sobs.

 

“You’ll get what I give you and you’ll thank me, won’t you?” Eames moves closer to Arthur until he can feel the heated skin against his thighs. Arthur whines and presses back into him. “Won’t you?” Eames prompts, pulling Arthur’s cheeks apart while spreading precome around the head of his cock.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur sulks, breath hitching every time Eames’ fingers move.

 

“Arrthur,” Eames groans, pressing in closer.

 

Arthur whimpers, his head dropping to the floor. “Please,” he whines quietly.

 

Eames is close, so close, and he so hates to disappoint his boy, so he pushes the head of his cock against Arthur’s hole. Arthur keens as Eames forces his way in, using the tip of his finger to guide his way, rubbing precome around Arthur’s hole.

 

“Yes,” Arthur pants, bearing down and loosening enough for Eames’ finger to slip in. His cock follows, fast and insistent, spreading Arthur open around him until the head is in. Arthur’s gasping and fluttering around him and Eames strokes himself, leaning back far enough to watch Arthur’s hole squeeze down around him.

 

“You want it, kitten?” 

 

“Yes, god, yes! Please Daddy, give it to me.” Arthur blurts, trying to fucking himself on Eames’ cock, to take him in deeper despite the lack of lubricant.

 

“Hold still,” Eames snaps, jerking his cock and focusing on the feeling of Arthur around him. The marks Eames left on his skin, the way Arthur looks, bound and spread open for him to do with as he sees fit.

 

Arthur starts making little mewling sounds, his fingers grasping at nothing in their restraints, and Eames comes, his orgasm punching through him and making him curl over Arthur’s back. As soon as Eames starts to come, Arthur shoves back, trying to take in more of Eames, his insides clutching at Eames’ cock and drawing out his pleasure. Arthur screams in frustration when Eames pulls out, shooting the rest of his release over Arthur’s ass and thighs.

 

Eames falls onto his side when he’s done, laying on the platform beside the wedge while he catches his breath. Arthur scoots over, landing half on top of him.

 

“Daddy,” he sobs. “Daddy, please.”

 

Eames gets a hand between them and fumbles with the lock, relishing Arthur’s cry when his cock is released and it floods with blood. He rubs himself against Eames’ leg, whimpering at the rough denim against his cock.

 

“That’s it, darling,” Eames encourages, cupping the back of Arthur’s head and holding him close. 

 

Arthur get onto his knees, pushing himself further up Eames’ body until he’s rutting against the warmth of Eames’ bare thigh. He shudders at the first thrust, sucking Eames’ shirt into his mouth.

 

“Yes, love, come for Daddy.”

 

“For Daddy,” Arthur repeats around the fabric, his eyes squeezed tight. 

 

“That’s right. Everything you do is for Daddy, just as everything Daddy does is for you.” Eames bends his knees a little and Arthur moans, doubling his efforts. 

 

Arthur bites Eames’ chest through his shirt, his sharp teeth sinking into muscle and skin, and if Eames could come again this soon, he would. His kitten has claws, teeth, and a short attention span, and Eames wants all of it.

 

“Come for me, kitten.”

 

Arthur grunts and shudders, then screams around Eames’ shirt as he comes apart, jerking and grinding himself against Eames’ thigh and covering him in come. Eames coaxes him through it, threading his fingers through Arthur’s dark hair and muttering praise. When he’s done, Eames rolls him over and kisses him gently, sliding his tongue into Arthur’s slack mouth. 

 

When he tries to take off the collar, Arthur jerks away, whimpering. Eames leaves it and removes the leg bar instead, pulling the blanket off the chair to the side of them and covering Arthur with it. He crouches beside the platform and gathers Arthur in his arms, taking him into the bathroom and settling him on his knee while he starts the bath. He dumps in half a bottle of bubble bath and tries once again to take the collar off

 

“Hey, hey, shh,” he whispers when Arthur tries to jerk away. “Daddy needs to take it off so he can clean you up. Once I’m done, I will put it back on.”

 

“Noo,” Arthur whines, trying to curl up and nearly ending up on the floor.

 

Eames grips him tightly by the back of the neck. “Arthur,” he says sternly. “I’m taking off the restraints. I will bind your arms in front of you, but the collar has to come off now.”

 

“I don’t want it off,” he whimpers, his eyes still closed. “Daddy’s.”

 

Eames stills, glad Arthur can’t see the shock on his face. He pulls Arthur close again, pressing kiss after kiss to his brow. “You’re always Daddy’s. The collar is a restraint, remember? It’s, it’s not Daddy’s collar, darling.”

 

“Daddy,” Arthur sighs.

 

“Would you like that, Arthur? Would you like Daddy to give you a collar?” He knows it’s not exactly fair to ask Arthur that in his current state, and he won’t take it as confirmation, but he longs to hear him say it.

 

“Please, Daddy.”

 

Eames shudders out a breath and takes a minute to compose himself. “We can talk about that later, okay? I promise. Now I’m going to take off the restraint, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur sighs, lifting his chin so Eames can get at the buckle. His arms hang limp at his sides once the cuffs are off and Eames has to prop him against the counter so he can disrobe. He puts Arthur in the water first, climbing in behind once he’s sure Arthur isn’t going to fall forward and hit his head. He’s so far into his subspace that Eames doesn’t think anything short of the fire alarm would get him out. But that’s fine with him, catering to difficult Arthur is exhausting at the best of times and he needs the time to rest as well. 

 

He sits in the tub, Arthur wedged in sideways so he can curl up and lay his head on Eames’ chest, tired and sore, but with the buzz of anticipation under his skin. Four more days and he takes the leap. Four more days and Arthur will forever be his. He rubs Arthur’s hip under the water, thinking the tub in their new house will have to be much bigger.

 


	9. January 2nd-Nine Ladies Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long to get out, real life attacked and I'm only now climbing out from beneath the rubble. Plus, this chapter is over 10k words. There's a lot going on in this one and I hope you enjoy it!

Eames makes him wait until four in the afternoon before he allows Arthur to open the box. It’s been sitting there on the mantel, taunting him all day. Eames finally sits him down on the sofa and hands it over, smirking when Arthur rips it out of his hands.

 

_ Nine Ladies Dancing _

 

Arthur frowns at the card. “I think you forgot to alter this one for the challenge. Either that or you’re seriously confused about where my interests lie.”

 

Eames takes the box and sets it aside, sitting down on the ottoman across from Arthur. “There’s nothing wrong with the card.”

 

“Okay,” Arthur says slowly, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Tonight is the Sister Knives Charity Gala for the new youth mental health shelter downtown. We’re going.”

 

Arthur gapes. “Are you serious? Eames, tickets for that sold out months ago. Not to mention they’re a thousand bucks a pop.”

 

“Darling, do you think I pulled this entire Eamesmas thing out of my arse? I’ve been planning it for months.”

 

“Okay, but that’s a lot of money,” Arthur points out.

 

Eames waves his hand. “All for a good cause.”

 

“Right,” Arthur squints at him. “Exactly how much money do you have? I mean, I know you make a decent living, but I’m starting to think you make a lot more than I realized.”

 

“It’s tacky to talk about money, love. Besides, that will all be in the pre-nup, ” Eames jokes.

 

“You can shove your pre-nup up your  _ arse _ ,” Arthur quips. “What’s the dress code for this party?”

 

“Grandmother will insist on a pre-nup.” Eames tells him solemnly.

 

“Then I guess she’s off the guest list. Seriously, Eames, I don’t think I have a suit nice enough for this.”

 

“Golddigger,” Eames says, warmly and kisses Arthur’s hand. “Now, about your attire. That’s where you’ll need an open mind.”

 

“Well, it’s a drag show, so I know a simple tux won’t cut it. I’m open to something flashier.”

 

“Excellent! But I don’t think you quite understand. It’s a drag show.” Eames squeezes Arthur’s hand.

 

“Yeah,” Arthur frowns. “So?”

 

Eames stares at him, eyebrows raised. Arthur thinks about the pictures he’s seen in the society pages of the event in previous years. The glitz and glamour, the high class drag show, diamonds competing with glitter for shiniest accessory. Everyone dressed to the nines in designer suits and bright gowns.

 

Arthur’s eyes go wide as everything clicks into place. “Wait-”

 

Eames smiles. “Now you’re seeing it.”

 

“If I don’t have a suit nice enough, I definitely don’t have a dress nice enough.” Arthur tells him.

 

“But you’d be willing to wear one? A dress, that is.”

 

Arthur shrugs. “To something like this, yeah. I mean, I don’t have a burning desire to dress in drag, but it’s for a good cause and you obviously want me to.”

 

“Well,” Eames sits back. “That was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be.”

 

“You sound disappointed.”

 

“No, not at all,” Eames assures him with a smile. “I just had this whole speech prepared in my head about opening yourself to new things and pushing past other people’s perceptions.”

 

“You can still lecture me if you want,” Arthur offers, grinning. “I know how you love the sound of your own voice.”

 

“Cheeky,” Eames tweaks his nose. “I should feed you before we go.”

 

“Screw food, I need to find a dress.” Arthur says, bouncing a little in his seat. He’s never really thought about crossdressing, or drag, or any of that, but all of a sudden it’s very appealing. Especially when he knows Eames wants him to do it.

 

Eames puts his hand to his chest, aghast. “Darling, do you really think I haven’t fully prepared for this? One does not simply walk into a drag show without a decent frock.”

 

“You bought me something?” Arthur feel himself grow warm. “Can I see it?”

 

“I truly expected you to be difficult about this. Are you harbouring desires you haven’t shared with me, pet?”

 

“No, I don’t know what it is. I mean, I’ve always wanted to go to a Sister Knives event, she’s amazing, but I’ve never dressed as a woman before. Have you?”

 

“A time or two, it’s kind of a British right of passage for a young man. It’s not as taboo over there, but I haven’t for a long time. And I won’t be tonight, I want to make that clear.”

 

Arthur smiles coyly and slides forward, crawling into Eames’ lap. “Does that make me your little girl, then?”

 

“Do you want to be?” Eames asks, clearly thrown a little by Arthur’s enthusiasm for this.

 

“I’m not sure. Ask me again when I’m dressed, okay?”

 

“Will do. Now, there’s one more thing,” Eames pulls back, holding Arthur by the hips.

 

“There always is.”

 

“I’m shite at makeup so I’ve asked a friend to come over and doll you up. He’s going to the party tonight as well, but not with us. He’ll just pop in and pop out.”

 

“Who is it?” Arthur asks, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking.

 

“Bobby,” Eames says carefully.

 

Arthur draws in a sharp breath and presses his lips together. Eames knows how Arthur feels about Bobby and the ‘non-relationship’ he and Eames had before Arthur came along. The fact that he’s invited him into their home, during what is supposed to be something built specially for the two of them, irks Arthur. It doesn’t matter that he knows Eames loves him, or that Bobby’s never been anything but perfectly polite to him, Arthur takes one look at his sharp cheekbones and impossibly blue eyes, his accommodating nature, and can’t help but see exactly what Eames saw in him.

 

“Arthur?”

 

“That’s fine,” Arthur smiles, brittle and too wide to be sincere. “He’s an expert, after all. I’m sure he’ll make me look beautiful.”

 

“You’re already beautiful,” Eames tells him, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s left dimple. “You’re perfect.”

 

“Sure,” he says tightly. “So can I see my dress now?”

 

Eames eyes search his face and he sighs, pulling Arthur into a hug. “Not yet. But I’d like it if you’d put on the underthings I bought you. Maybe prance around a little for me.” 

 

Arthur lets himself lean into Eames, enjoying the feeling of strong arms caging him in. He presses a kiss to Eames’ shoulder and a thought occurs to him. “Shit, am I going to have to tuck?” 

 

Eames chuckles and pulls back. “No, I bought you garments made for men. There’s a little padded pouch and everything. I got you nylons, as well, so you don’t have to shave your legs.”

 

“Have you seen my legs? I’m not hiding those in nylons.”

 

Eames smiles, his eyes impossibly warm. “You’d best get it done, then. We have to be there in three hours. Bobby will be here at six.”

 

Arthur’s no stranger to shaving his legs, he was a champion swimmer in high school, and the silky smooth feeling of his bare calves rubbing together makes his skin tingle. He did his underarms and chest as well, just in case. If he likes being Eames’ little girl, he doesn’t want to ruin the illusion with his treasure trail. Having Eames rub lotion all over his naked body afterward doesn’t hurt, either.

 

The navy blue lace panties Eames slides up his legs do indeed have a padded pouch in the front, giving him a smooth mound that Arthur studies in the mirror.

 

“Men’s lingerie has come a long way,” he comments, cupping himself through the filmy lace.

 

“It has,” Eames agrees, watching him. “Gone are the days of stuffing yourself into panties three times too small, just to keep your tuck in place. If you can afford it, that is.”

 

Arthur slides a hand down his smooth chest, fingering the lace scallop on the waist of the panties. “Hmm, I suppose there’s no foundation to provide bindings and cups to those who can’t.”

 

“There is, actually. Maybe that’s where my tax donation should go this year.”

 

Arthur smiles at him in the mirror. “I think it should.”

 

“Done,” Eames crooks his finger. “Come here, I’m not done with you yet.”

 

Arthur hurries over and Eames pulls out an awkward, complicated looking garment out of the tissue paper. It’s the same colour and material as the panties, but Arthur has no clue what it’s meant to be.

 

“It’s called a U-plunge bra. Your dress is open in the front so I needed something that wouldn’t show.”

 

“I don’t exactly need a bra. It’s not like I have breasts to keep contained.” Arthur lays his palms over the slight swell of his pecks. He’s worked hard to get the definition he has and hardly thinks he needs help keeping them it check.

 

“No, but you’ll need something to hold these in place,” Eames says and holds up breast cutlet.

 

Arthur laughs. “You got me boobs? Baby, you shouldn’t have!”

 

“I was told very sternly that the dress wouldn’t lay right if you didn’t have at least a little something up top. I wasn’t about to argue with a master.”

 

“Wait, who helped you with this?” Arthur sobers.

 

“Nevermind that, turn around so I can put this on you.”

 

“Eames, who helped you,” Arthur asks quietly, his stomach clenching.

 

“Arthur, I honestly don’t see why you dislike Bobby so much.” Eames says, like he’s said a dozen times before.

 

Arthur crosses his arms over his chest and drops his head, feeling exposed.

 

“Darling, you know I love you. I’m devoted to you. Only you.” Eames pulls him close by the hips, ducking his head to catch Arthur’s gaze.

 

“I know, but,” Arthur flounders. He  _ does _ know those things, but for some reason he just can’t get over knowing that Eames has been with Bobby. Has fucked him like he fucks Arthur. Called him pet names and dominated him. He knows he’s not the only one Eames has been with, and he doesn’t waste time thinking about any of the others, but Bobby still wanders in and out of their lives. Eames and he are friends, and even though Eames insists it wasn’t serious, wasn’t more than a handful of nights, Arthur just can’t help but worry that Eames still thinks about what might have been.

 

“But what?” Eames asks softly, rubbing his thumbs over Arthur’s hipbones.

 

“I don’t know,” he admits, covering his face with his hands. “You’re right, he’s been perfectly nice to me, and I absolutely trust you, I just can’t make myself be okay with him.”

 

“Would it help to know the details of our time together?” 

 

“No,” Arthur lets out a shaky laugh. “God no, please don’t tell me. I’m sorry, it’s all in my head. I’m trying to be better, okay? I’m really trying.”

 

“Hey, I’m not mad,” Eames pulls Arthur’s hands away from his face, squeezing them. “I’ve never had to meet any of your exes, and considering some of the things you’ve told me, it’s probably very fortunate that I haven’t. You’re not in contact with them, and they’re not something I worry about, so I can’t say I know where this is coming from, but I swear to you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about when it comes to Bobby. We’ve both moved on and have found partners that make us happier than we could have ever hoped to be together. I love you, Arthur, and he doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

 

Arthur’s throat is thick and he hates that he’s made Eames worry about him like this. He loves Eames and if anyone ever tried to take him away, Arthur knows he’d fight tooth and nail before he let him go, and Eames is right, Bobby has some high profile sugar daddy who dotes on him. He doesn’t need Eames, probably never thinks about their time together. But it’s still there, in the back of his mind. The knowledge that Bobby once was to Eames what Arthur is now.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m ruining this.”

 

“No, darling, you’re allowed to have concerns. I just hope I’ve reassure you that I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“I know you’re not, I do,” Arthur insists. “Ugh, I hate this. I hate feeling like I can’t control my own thoughts.” He tugs at his hair, feeling like his skin of too tight and everything is spiraling out of control.

 

“Arthur,” Eames says sternly, catching Arthur’s chin in a tight grip. “What do you need?”

 

Arthur whimpers. “I’m sorry.”

 

“No, none of that. Tell me what you need.” Eames’ eyes never leave his and it settles Arthur a little.

 

“I don’t know,” he gasps, hand shaking.

 

Eames stands from the bed, pulling Arthur over to the mirror and wrapping his arms around him from behind. Eames’ eyes are hard, but warm when they meet Arthur’s in the reflection of the glass.

 

“You are mine,” Eames tells him. “Only mine. You’re the only one I want. The only one I’m ever going to want. You’re gorgeous, and brilliant, and difficult as hell, but I wouldn’t have you any other way, do you hear me?”

 

Arthur bites his lip and nods.

 

“Say it,” Eames demands, hands pressing Arthur back against him.

 

“I hear you,” Arthur croaks.

 

“Good. I will beat it into you if that’s what you need, Arthur. I love you. You are everything to me, the most important thing in my life. If I don’t have you, I have nothing, do you understand?”

 

“I understand,” he whispers, his breaths growing heavy and even.

 

“I’m going to mark you now. If at any point tonight you question how much I need you, how completely I want you, you’ll have the mark to remind you, yes?”

 

“Yes,” Arthur breathes, goosebumps rising on his skin.

 

“Good boy. Hold still.” Eames tilts his head to the side and angles it up, not breaking eye contact. His middle finger is pressing against Arthur’s jaw, making his eyes flutter. Eames sinks his teeth into his shoulder, right over his trapezius, and Arthur jumps, exhaling loudly when the finger digs in, keeping him in place. Eames’ soft lips on his skin are a sharp contrast to his teeth, blunt and unrelenting as they bite into his muscle. 

 

A warm shiver spreads out from the pinch of the connection and Eames presses harder, tightening his arm around Arthur’s waist to support him as he slumps. It hurts, God, does it hurt, but the pain is grounding. A gift from Eames to him, reminding Arthur of how much they do for each other. Of how well they fit together. As though they’re pieces of the same puzzle, and no matter how you turn them, they always, always connect. 

 

Eames’ bite is like an elixir, sending tendrils of pleasure through him, calming and grounding him. Showing Arthur that he is treasured. That Eames loves him enough to leave his signature on Arthur’s body. He knows Eames won’t break the skin, but Arthur wishes he would. Leave a permanent mark that Arthur can’t deny, even in his darkest hour. He wants Eames to consume him, piece by piece, until he sated and content and Arthur’s a part of him on a cellular level.

 

Arthur sighs when Eames eases up, licking over the bite mark before me presses a gentle kiss to Arthur’s shoulder. “Better?”

 

“Perfect,” Arthur says, unable to keep a dopey smile off his face.

 

“I love you,” Eames tells him sternly.

 

“I know. Thank you.” Arthur closes his eyes and leans into him.

 

“Are you ready to keep going?”

 

Arthur grins, turning his head to kiss Eames and sucking in a sharp breath when it pulls on the bite. “Yes.”

 

Eames leads him back to the bed, wrapping the bra around his chest and carefully threading the hooks through the eyes. It lays almost flat against Arthur’s body, only curving out slightly when Eames puts in the cutlets. Eames whistles through his teeth when he steps back for a look.

 

Arthur flushes and runs his hands over his hips. “Good?”

 

“Different,” Eames admits. “But gorgeous. Look at yourself.”

 

Arthur shakes his head. “No, not until I’m done. I feel really good right now and I want to wait.”

 

“Okay, do you want a robe? He’ll be here soon.”

 

“Can I have my shoes first? I kind of like the idea of walking around in lingerie and heels. That’s a thing, right?”

 

“That’s definitely a thing,” Eames confirms, his eyes raking over Arthur in a way that makes Arthur bite his lip against a groan.

 

Eames goes to the closet and brings back a shoe box, handing it to Arthur. Arthur hops up on the bed and holds out his foot, smiling wickedly.

 

“Minx,” Eames says and opens the box. 

 

Before he can slip the first shoe on, Arthur pulls his foot back. “What the hell are those?”

 

“Shoes,” Eames tells him with a frown.

 

“Those are flats.”

 

“No, these are kitten heels. I thought they would be a good idea since you’ve never walked in heels. Well, not that I know of, anyway.” Eames says with a wry twist to his mouth.

 

Arthur crosses his arms over is chest, a little thrown by how much the bra throws off the simplicity of the move. “If I can survive four hours in pony shoes, I can survive an evening in heels.”

 

Eames smirks and drops the shoe back in the box, leaning down to kiss Arthur. “Always wanting more, my kitten.”

 

Arthur waits for him to pull a second box out of the closet, going down on his knees at the side of the bed. It occurs to Arthur that he should start keeping track of the things Eames hides in their closet. Then again, he reasons, why ruin the surprise?

 

The shoe Eames slides onto his foot is a black suede mary jane with a wide, elegant bow in the place of a strap. It has a platform toe and a four inch heel, and it fits like a dream.

 

“They’re beautiful.” Arthur turns his foot this way and that, enjoying the way the shoe makes his foot look even narrower than it is naturally, almost delicate.

 

“I knew you’d like them,” Eames says, slipping on the other shoe and fiddling with the bow. “Stand up, give me a twirl.”

 

Arthur slides off the bed carefully. He remembers how unstable he was in the pony shoes, but these are well built and he doesn’t wobble despite the thin heel. He turns in a slow circle, giggling when he realize the heels make him a good three inches taller than Eames.

 

“I can see the top of your head.”

 

“Anything I need to worry about up there?” Eames ask, smiling.

 

“I’ll be sure to let you know if I catch sight of a bald spot,” Arthur assures him, laying his forearms over Eames’ shoulders.

 

The buzzer in the living room goes off and Arthur’s stomach drops. Eames pecks him on the lips and pushes him gently toward the robe hanging on the back of the closet door.

 

By the time Arthur’s taken a few deep breaths and sauntered out to the living room in the robe, Bobby has one of those fold out makeup cases set up on the stool from the platform.

 

“Arthur!” he calls, folding his hands in front of him. His hair and makeup are perfect and he’s wearing a strapless silk jumper in emerald green. He looks like he just stepped out of the pages of a 70’s fashion magazine. “How nice to see you again!”

 

Arthur inclines his head. “Bobby.”

 

Eames watches him closely, raising an eyebrow when Arthur scratches under his ear, his fingers gliding over the bruise Eames’ finger left when he was biting.

 

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” Arthur offers. “I’ve haven’t worn makeup since I was a kid.”

 

“Messed around with your mom’s stuff?” Bobby guesses.

 

“Ah, no, I did commercials.”

 

“Arthur was a striking child,” Eames tells him with pride, making Arthur flush. “He did a few national campaigns.”

 

“Wow, that’s impressive. Your parents must have been proud.” Bobby says and Arthur looks away. The truth is that one of his foster parents was approached by a photographer while they were at the mall one day. Arthur never saw a cent of the money he made, but he made damn sure that family never got the chance to adopt him.

 

“He’s a natural in front of the camera,” Eames tells Bobby, taking Arthur by the hand and leading him to the ottoman, motioning for him to sit down.

 

“I bet. You’re bone structure is phenomenal,” Bobby says, his own pale eyes flicking over Arthur’s face appraisingly.

 

Arthur chokes out a laugh. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?” There’s no use denying that Bobby is beautiful, but he waves off Arthur’s comment.

 

“Oh, I’m just odd looking enough to pass as pretty. You’re a natural beauty.”

 

“Oh. Um, thank you.” Arthur stammers, looking up at Eames beseechingly. He has no idea what to do with Bobby’s compliments. He sounds sincere, but Arthur’s too cynical to take them at face value.

 

“I think you’re in good hands, darling, I’m going to get myself ready if there’s no objections.” Eames squeezes his shoulder, pressing down on the bite mark.

 

“Oh, go already!” Bobby tells him, making shooing motions. “Arthur and I will survive your absence somehow.”

 

“Go,” Arthur says quietly, giving Eames what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

 

Eames kisses the top of his head and goes, and if Bobby notices Arthur’s tension, he doesn’t comment on it. He gets to work, covering Arthur’s face and neck with layer after layer of foundation and powder. 

 

“For someone with such dark hair, you’re stubble doesn’t show much,” Bobby remarks after a while. There’s something meditative to having the makeup applied and Arthur’s dropped into a quiet trance while Bobby works.

 

“Just lucky, I guess.”

 

“You are. Do you think you’ll do this again?” Bobby asks, patting a sponge over Arthur’s nose and cheeks.

 

Arthur shrugs his shoulder. “Maybe for something like this.”

 

Bobby nods, his brow furrowed as he works, looking like he has something on his mind. Arthur watches him from under his lashes until finally, Bobby licks his lips and blows out his breath.

 

“Eames has never asked you to? Before this, I mean.”

 

Arthur stills. He has no desire to discuss the details of his relationship with Eames, certainly not with Eames’ ex. “Ah...”

 

“Sorry, sorry, that was rude. You don’t have to tell me.” Bobby’s flustered as he picks through eyeshadow pallets.

 

“He hasn’t,” Arthur offers, thinking it must be a little weird for your ex to ask you to help dress up his new boyfriend for their pleasure. For the first time he wonders how uncomfortable Bobby must feel about this.

 

Bobby looks up and smiles at Arthur, looking embarrassed. “Well, if you decide you want to try it again, I’d be happy to help you. We’re almost the same size and god knows I have way too many clothes.” He laughs nervously.

 

“Thanks, that’s, um, nice of you.”

 

“I have a red Chanel number that you would look stunning in.”

 

“I’m not, ah, I’m not wearing one of your dresses tonight, am I?” Arthur asks, a little afraid of the answer.

 

Bobby laughs. “No, no, of course not. Eames knew exactly what he wanted for you, I just helped find it.” Bobby sighs and gives Arthur a crooked smile. “He’s really happy.”

 

“Eames?” Arthur asks, startled.

 

“Yeah. I’ve never seen him like he is with you, and I’ve known him a long time. He’s, I don’t even know how to explain it. Settled. Content. Before he met you, I wouldn’t have been surprised to come around and find he’d packed everything up and left in a moment of ennui. You’re so good for him. And to him, from what I hear.”

 

“What have you heard?” Arthur asks, wary.

 

“Well, I hate to gossip,” Bobby says wryly. “But word is that he’s been shopping for more than just dresses for you. Jewellery,” he clarifies when Arthur gives him a blank look.

 

“Yeah, right,” Arthur scoffs. “I don’t think Eames is the marrying type. I mean, we’re committed and everything, but I can’t see him getting down on one knee.” 

 

Before Bobby can protest, Eames slides into the room in his socks, clad head to toe in gold. Shiny gold lamé.

 

“What. The. Hell?” Arthur says, gaping.

 

“Jesus, my eyes hurt.” Bobby holds up a hand to block out the sight of Eames.

 

“But perfect for this evening, correct?” Eames grins at them.

 

“Yeah, it is, actually,” Bobby admits, turning Arthur’s chin back to front to finish his makeup.

 

“I seriously have to be seen with you in that?” Arthur asks, closing his eyes.

 

“At least you won’t lose him,” Bobby mutters.

 

“What if I want to?” Arthur asks and hears Bobby snort.

 

“You’re both jealous,” Eames tells them. “I look fantastic.”

 

“It won’t matter what you look like with Arthur on your arm,” Bobby says, applying Arthur’s false lashes. “He’s going to be the hottest thing in the room. You’ll look like a potato next to him.”

 

“A golden potato,” Eames points out.

 

“Ah, but still a potato.”

 

Arthur smiles to himself, opening his eyes when Bobby tells him to. Bobby winks and picks up a tube of lipstick.

 

“Don’t put this on until you have the dress on. Call me if you need help with anything and I’ll come find you. I’m heading there now, actually, so I’ll be around. Eames, I’ll leave the rest in your hands.” Bobby stores his brushes and snap the case shut.

 

“Excellent work as always,” Eames tells him, looking at Arthur.

 

“I didn’t have to do much, the canvas was already gorgeous.” Bobby lays a hand on Arthur’s arm and brushes a kiss over his cheek.

 

Arthur grabs his hand before he can pull away. “Thank you,” he says sincerely.

 

Bobby smiles. “You let me know about the Chanel. Once you see it, you’ll be dying to try it on, trust me.”

 

Eames sees him out, then leans against the door, raising his eyes at Arthur. “That went well.”

 

Arthur nods slowly. “I think so. He’s really that nice, isn’t he?”

 

Eames smiles softly. “He really is. So, ready for the dress?”

 

Arthur unties his robe and shrugs it off his shoulders, letting it fall open. “Do we have time to play first?”

 

Eames growls, pushing off of the door and stalking over to him. “We really don’t. I wish we did because you look delicious, but we still have to pick a wig.”

 

“Oh, I didn’t think about that.”

 

“Hmm, that’s because it’s my job to think of these things. You just stand there and be gorgeous.”

 

“And difficult,” Arthur adds and Eames grins.

 

“Of course.”

 

Eames drags a crate out from behind the couch and opens it up, pulling out four brunnette wigs.

 

“Where did those come from?”

 

“Bobby brought them. You should see his flat, it’s filled to the brim with wigs and costumes.”

 

“Maybe I will,” Arthur says, raising his eyebrow when Eames’ head snaps up. 

 

“Really?”

 

“We’ll see. Would you like that?” 

 

Eames licks his lips. “I like whatever you like.”

 

Arthur snorts. “Liar. Tell the truth.”

 

“I’m not sure. I like you in lingerie, we could do that again. I don’t know about full drag, though. Ask me again once you’re dressed,” Eames says with a wink.

 

“But you liked it with Bobby,” Arthur blurts.

 

Eames frowns. “Arthur, I’ve told you-”

 

“No, I know, that’s not what I meant. But he gets dressed up nearly everyday, right? You must have been okay with it when you two,” Arthur makes a vague hand gesture.

 

“He was just getting into it when we...well, he didn’t get dressed up. That wasn’t something I was interested in, so he didn’t share it with me. Same with all this,” Eames nods to the platform and all its accoutrements. That’s not something we did.”

 

“Really?” Arthur asks, his mind spinning a mile a minute.

 

“Really.” Eames confirms.

 

“I didn’t realize that.”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“It does,” Arthur says slowly. “It actually matters a lot.”

 

“Okay,” Eames says cautiously. “Does it make things better?”

 

Arthur meets Eames’ gaze, something in his chest loosening at the affection he finds. “Yeah, it does.”

 

“I love you,” Eames offers.

 

Arthur grins and kisses him briefly on the lips. “I love you, too. Now, wigs.”

 

They decide on a chin-length bob that showcases Arthur’s long neck and sharpens the look of his cheekbones. He turns his head back and forth a few times, shivering at the hair brushing over the back of his neck. Eames disappears into the bedroom and returns with a garment bag, hooking it on the loop over the platform with a wink.

 

The dress is lapis blue and sleeveless with a jewel neckline bisected by a deep V that makes Arthur glad he shaved his chest. The tiny gold leaf pattern around the edges of the bodice match Eames’ suit perfectly, and Arthur falls a little in love with the layered, ruffle skirt. It’s classy, but fun, and it makes Arthur warm that Eames knows him so well.

 

“It’s perfect,” he breathes, running gentle fingers over the bodice.

 

“I knew you’d like it.” Eames unzips the back of the dress and slides it off the hanger, helping Arthur step into it carefully. 

 

It fits beautifully and Arthur is pleased to see that the shoulder of the bodice is just thick enough to hide Eames’ bite mark. Bobby covered the bruise on his jaw, but he can still feel them both when he moves.

 

“Are you ready to see yourself?” Eames asks, pressing a kiss to his neck, his breath ruffling the hair of the wig.

 

“I think so.”

 

Eames turns him to face the mirror over the mantle. The one he’s so carefully avoided until now. It take Arthur a moment to register that the person staring back is, in fact, him. He looks, well, he looks like a woman. His makeup is light, but precise, the dress and lingerie lending the illusion of curves he doesn’t actually possess, and he looks good. Like his own twin sister. 

 

“Wow.” 

 

“Darling, you look stunning.” Eames’ eyes roam over him in the mirror, full of wonder.

 

“I kind of feel stunning,” he admits with a laugh. “We should probably leave before that feeling fades.”

 

“Right,” Eames squeezes his waist and presses a kiss to the back of his head. “I’ll get my shoes.”

 

Arthur studies himself in the mirror, smoothing a hand over his hair and checking his angles, seeing how low he can bend before the dress gapes to reveal his bra. The skirt hits him mind-thigh in the front and just below the knees in the back, framing his legs beautifully. 

 

Eames holds out Arthur’s peacoat, which is cut close enough to be considered feminine while Arthur’s dressed up.

 

“I’m surprised you couldn’t find gold shoes,” Arthur remarks, buttoning his jacket.

 

“Oh, I did. But I wanted to keep it classy.”

 

Arthur rolls his eyes and takes the small gold clutch Eames hands him. “Shouldn’t I have some jewellery to go with my ensemble?”

 

Eames’ fingers slip on the doorknob, just a little, then he’s looking up with a grin. “You shine brighter than any gem, darling, it would be a waste.”

 

“I don’t know, diamonds are pretty shiny.”

 

“Mere pebbles next to your beauty,” Eames presses a kiss to the back of his hand and leads Arthur out of the apartment.

 

“Lapis lazuli would have matched the dress,” he points out as he gets on the elevator, fiddling with the clasp on his purse.

 

“Common and gaudy when laid against your skin.” Eames presses the button for the garage and leans against the wall, watching Arthur with hooded eyes.

 

“Silver?”

 

“Dull.”

 

“Gold?”

 

Eames points to his suit with a grin. “I’m King Midas, darling.”

 

“Okay, tell me this then,” Arthur say, dryly. “Why is my purse filled with nothing but lube and condoms?”

 

Eames’ grin turns wicked. “I’ve never fucked a girl.”

 

Arthur shakes his head and fights a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Charming, love. I’m charming.”

 

“You’re something, alright,” Arthur mutters and leads them off the elevator, heading for the car.

 

The ride to the event isn’t long, but Arthur has to remind Eames three times that the car is a standard and he’ll need the hand that keeps inching its way up Arthur’s thigh to shift. There’s a line of cars in front of the Union Club, and Eames hums to himself while they wait for their turn. Arthur shifts in his seat, checking and rechecking his makeup in the mirror. He put on his lipstick when they got in, but he can’t help but think it would have been better to have found Bobby and had him do it.

 

“Relax,” Eames squeezes his knee. “Just a few pictures, then we’ll be inside.”

 

“Right. Yeah, I’m fine,” Arthur says, more to himself than to Eames. 

 

“You look beautiful,” Eames tells him softly, leaning across the car to kiss Arthur’s cheek.

 

Then they’re pulling up to the curb and the valet replaces Eames behind the wheel. Arthur’s door opens and Eames smiles reassuringly, holding out his hand. He barely remembers to keep his legs together as he climbs out of the car, and he stumbles a little before Eames catches his elbow to right him. Arthur flushes, but there’s no time to be embarrassed because they’re being herded along, blinded by camera flashes when they stop in front of the event backdrop. 

 

The click of the cameras throw a switch inside Arthur and he’s taken back to his childhood, posing and smiling while showcasing whatever product the client was selling. His shoulders go back and his dimples come out. He cocks his knee and rests his elbow on Eames’ shoulder, tilting his head until he’s touching Eames’. The arm around his waist tightens and Eames kisses his temple, making Arthur duck his head and blush. 

 

They move on, and Eames stops just inside the club’s doors to pull Arthur close.

 

“What was that?” he asks with heat in his eyes.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Arthur brushes invisible lint from Eames’ shoulder.

 

Eames growls and nips playfully at Arthur’s chin.

 

“You’ll ruin my makeup,” Arthur tells him primly.

 

Eames pulls him close to whisper in his ear. “I’ll ruin you.”

 

Arthur can’t help the shiver that goes through him, but he smacks Eames with his clutch. “Promises, promises.”

 

They get drinks and find an unoccupied table to sit at while Eames tells Arthur all the delicious, and mostly gravity-defying, things he wants to do to him. It serves as a good distraction until Bobby comes bounding over with an older, Japanese man in tow.

 

“Oh my god, you look amazing!” Bobby tells him, ghosting a kiss to Arthur’s cheek.

 

“You look,” Arthur gapes, because Bobby looks like a flamingo. Complete with black lipstick and feathers.

 

Bobby laughs. “I’m performing. I’m not even supposed to be out here, but I  _ had _ to see you in your dress.”

 

“Oh, um, thanks. Is it okay?” Arthur asks, suddenly worried.

 

“Arthur, you look beautiful,” Bobby assures him. “People are already talking about you two, you know.”

 

“Are they now?” Eames asks, delighted.

 

“Oh my gosh, this is Saito!” Bobby says, fluttering around the other man. “You’ve met Eames before, and this is his Arthur.”

 

Saito kisses the back of Arthur’s hand, but he barely feels it because he hasn’t recovered from Bobby calling him Eames’.”

 

“A pleasure.” Saito smiles.

 

“Babe, you should sit with Arthur and Eames for the show. We’re finally at a party where he’s the one who doesn’t know anyone,” Bobby tells them with a laugh.

 

Saito protests politely at first, but the house lights are flashing and Eames insists, flagging a waiter down to get Saito a drink. They settle in, bodies angled towards the stage, and wait for the show to start. When the lights finally go down and the music starts, Arthur finds himself on the edge of his seat. He’s been to drag shows a few times, before he was with Eames, but this is Sister Knives. She’s an icon, a pioneer, and a force of nature. 

 

A bottle of champagne is delivered to their table, and Saito pours them all glasses, throwing his own back quickly and refilling it while Eames laughs. Arthur sips more conservatively, pausing with his glass halfway to his lips as the curtains open to reveal Sister Knives at center stage, dressed like a glitter factory exploded on Little Bo Peep. Several young men dance around her in nothing but lambswool thongs and knee high black boots.

 

The audience roars around them as the number goes on. Arthur doesn’t know the song, but it has something to do with counting, then seducing sheep and many it’s supposed to be a metaphor, but near the end, a very tall, well muscled man dressed as a border collie herds the sheep men off the stage and swings Sister Knives up into his arms like she’s not six feet tall in her heels and weighed down by a fifty pound dress.

 

Arthur applauds until his hands hurt and Eames shoves his fingers in his mouth and whistles. Arthur drains his glass and Saito fills it immediately with a small smile.

 

Sister Knives toddles back on stage, now clad in a shimmering red number, her hair piled high on her head.

 

“Hello, ducklings!” She coos, blowing a kiss to the mayor. “I hope you all brought your checkbooks! If not, have no fear, my lovely assistants will be picking pockets randomly throughout the evening to ensure we surpass our goal.”

 

Arthur jumps at the smacking of checkbooks being thrown on the table.

 

Eames leans closer. “She’s serious. If they don’t see the money on the table, they’ll harass you all night. Good naturedly, but we came to pay, didn’t we?” 

 

“Didn’t you pay to come?” Arthur frowns.

 

“That’s just to have the honour of her presence. Now we have to meet her goal.” Eames winks and kisses Arthur’s ear.

 

Sister Knives gives a short, but detailed presentation about the queer youth shelter they’re sponsoring this year, and Arthur has to admit that the place couldn’t ask for a better spokesperson. She talks about her own life and the struggles she went through when her parents threw her out. It’s a common story and Arthur sees a lot of heads nodding along in agreement. Sister tells them about not being allowed into the girl’s shelter and not feeling safe at the boy’s, and about her ‘fairy drag mother’ who took her in and helped her become the tower of excellence standing before them. 

 

Before she’s even done speaking, people are scribbling in their checkbooks and tossing their donations into the large glass bowls in the centre of each table. Eames fills out a check for half of what Arthur makes in a year and Saito’s is three times that. 

 

Arthur brushes a hand over Eames’ neck and whispers in his ear. “One day you’re really going to have to tell me exactly what it is you do for a living.”

 

Eames grins and drains his champagne.

 

Bobby’s number is up next and he sings a duet with a man in a velour suit, trying to lure in his ‘Flamingo Girl’. It’s ridiculous, and overly dramatic, but Arthur loves every minute because it’s also fun and harmless, and he doesn’t let himself have a lot of that in his life.

 

By the time Bobby makes it back to their table in an emerald mini dress and flapper headband over his red haired wig, Arthur’s feeling a little lightheaded. Eames goes in search of some food and Bobby slides into his seat, asking Arthur how he’s liking the show.

 

“It’s incredible,” Arthur tells him honestly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

Bobby grins at him. “I’m so glad! You should come down to the club one night. You don’t have to get all dressed up, but it’s always a good time.”

 

“We might do that,” Arthur says, a little surprised to find that he means it.

 

“You can come alone, if you want,” Bobby tells him with a gentle smile. “I’m sure Eames wouldn’t mind.”

 

Arthur frowns. “Why would I go without Eames?” 

 

Bobby’s smile wavers. “I know Eames can be a little...intense. Especially with you. Sometimes it’s good to have somewhere that’s just for you. A safe place.”

 

Arthur’s mind is spinning with champagne and it takes him a minute to understand what Bobby is trying to say. He barks out a laugh, slapping a hand over his mouth when Bobby’s smile drops away.

 

“Are you worried about me? Like, seriously worried?” Arthur asks.

 

“Look, Eames is wonderful, I know that. But, Arthur, you don’t hear how he speaks about you. There’s being in love with someone and then there’s wanting to possess them. I just want you to know you have somewhere to go if it gets to be too much. I know the two of you are in the lifestyle, but doesn’t it ever get scary?”

 

“No,” Arthur replies honestly. He takes Bobby’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I want you to know that I really, really appreciate you saying this to me. I haven’t had a lot of people in my life who have looked out for me, and I know I haven’t been fair to you, but I hope I can make up for that. You should know that out of the two of us, Eames is the least intense. His claim on me is only about half of what mine is on him.”

 

“Are you sure?” Bobby’s eyes are wide and sincere, and maybe it’s the champagne, but Arthur can’t help pulling him into a hug.

 

“I promise, it’s okay,” he says over the music onstage.

 

“Am I interrupting something?” Eames asks, standing over them with a plate of food, his eyebrows raised.

 

“Just girl talk,” Bobby tells him with a smile, sliding back into Saito’s lap.

 

“Everything okay?” Eames asks, kissing Arthur’s temple and pushing the plate of food toward him.

 

Arthur nods, smiling around a mouth full of hors d'oeuvres. Eames chuckles and steals a canape, throwing his arm over the back of Arthur’s chair. A photographer comes by at one point and asks to take their picture, so Eames pulls him into his lap and they smile, side by side with Bobby and Saito, champagne flutes raised. 

 

Bobby has another number in the second half of the show so he walks Arthur to the bathroom before heading back. Arthur pauses, looking between the men’s and women’s doors, unsure of where he should go.

 

“Are you going to stand to pee?” A voice asks over his shoulder, and when he turns, he’s stunned to find Sister Knives herself standing there.

 

“Um, I’m not sure. No?” He stutters.

 

“Come with me,” Sister grabs his arm and pulls him into the women’s where no one bats an eye at their presence. 

 

Arthur sits on the toilet, careful of his panties, and sighs as the weight of half a bottle of champagne leaves his bladder. When he open the stall door, Sister is still there, washing her hands.

 

“Thank you,” Arthur tells her shyly. “I’m kind of new at this.”

 

“You don’t say?” Sister teases with a wink. “We all start somewhere, duckling. Most not as well as you have.” She takes in Arthur dress and wig with a keen eye.

 

“Ah, my boyfriend picked it out. He’s helping me push my boundaries.” Arthur’s not sure why he feels the need to explain, but he can’t help but feel like a cheap impostor next to the glory that is Sister Knives.

 

“And is it working?” she asks, sounding genuinely interested.

 

“Yeah,” Arthur laughs. “It’s kind of his specialty.”

 

Sister grins, in the middle of fixing her lipstick. “Well, hold onto him then. We all need someone who knows how to keep us on our toes. Do you love him?”

 

“With everything I have,” Arthur breathes, flushing.

 

“What’s your name, duckling?”

 

“Arthur. I, um, I’m friends with Bobby. The Flamingo.”

 

Sister roars, throwing her head back. “Oh, Bobby! What a delight! He’s good people, you’d do well to stick with him.”

 

“Yeah, I’m kind of learning that.” Arthur smoothes a hand over his hair, taming the flyaway hairs.

 

“Well, Arthur, I have to get back, but it was a joy to meet you, dear.” Sister takes his hand, shaking it with both of hers. “You keep your ears open for the last number, okay? I want to see you on your feet.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Ma’am,” Sister scoffs, laughing as she walks out of the bathroom.

 

Arthur stands there stunned for a minute before he remembers that Eames is waiting for him at their table. He’s still in a daze when he slides back into his chair, holding his glass towards Saito and their latest bottle of champagne.

 

“Everything alright?” Eames asks.

 

“I met Sister Knives,” he whispers, eyes wide. “She helped me pick a bathroom.”

 

Eames laughs. “Did you? Is she as stunning as she looks up there on stage?”

 

“More,” Arthur croaks and takes a drink.

 

Eames squeezes the back of his neck and laughs again, returning his attention to the stage. By the time Sister reappears, ties have been loosened and shoes slipped off so people can be drunk in relative comfort. The bowls on the table are nearly full, and men in tuxes are collecting them so the donations can be tallied for the reveal. 

 

Bobby had reappeared for champagne and kisses from Saito, then disappeared again to get ready for the finale. 

 

“Sister told me to tell you to get off your ass and dance,” he tells Arthur before flitting off.

 

“Seems you made an impression,” Saito raises his glass in Arthur’s direction.

 

“Is that good?”

 

“Always,” Saito confirms. “Even bad impressions stick in the mind. It rarely pays to be forgotten.”

 

“Unless you’re a spy. Then being forgotten is an asset,” Eames says wisely.

 

“I’m not a spy,” Arthur points out.

 

Eames waves his hand in the air. “Then I’m sure you’re fine.”

 

“Are you a spy?” Arthur teases.

 

“Please,” Eames scoffs. “When has anyone ever forgotten me?”

 

Arthur and Saito laugh as Sister calls for attention, announcing that they’ve almost doubled their goal, and gives them all her heartfelt thanks for their donations. It doesn’t feel practiced or false, and when she wipes a tear from her eye, Arthur’s certain it’s for real. He wonders if Eames is right and he should get to know more people in their community. Not everyone can be as welcoming and sincere as Bobby, Saito, and Sister, but maybe people like that make up for all the assholes. For the people more like Arthur.

 

The lights go down, leaving them in near darkness. Eames’ hand immediately goes to Arthur’s thigh, inching its way under his skirt.

 

“What’s up? It’s Pickles. Leave a message.” A voice booms from the speakers and Arthur pushes Eames’ hand away to get up and cheer as Sister struts to center stage and begins to complain about the rain.

 

The other performers, Bobby included, appear at the refrain, singing and dancing their way down the stage stairs and into the crowd. Bobby makes a beeline for their table, taking Arthur’s hand and pulling him along. Arthur freezes.

 

“Let’s have a kiki,” Bobby sings at him and he feels Eames pushing him gently forward.

 

It might be the champagne, or the intoxicating happiness of the song, but Arthur takes a step, and then another, and another, until Bobby is pulling him up the stairs and they’re dancing and singing along, laughing as Arthur tries to pick up the simple choreography of the other dancers. 

 

The lights are bright and he can’t see anyone past the lip of the stage so Arthur allows himself to let go a little, shimmying and holding onto Bobby while they dance around. Sister bops him on the nose when she goes by, and Arthur can’t help but grin, wide, and open, and so grateful to Eames for introducing him to these people. To this feeling of weightless joy. Arthur thinks he could use a little more of that in his life, maybe.

 

When the music stops and the lights go down, the party really starts. A DJ sets up onstage and tables are pushed back to create a large dance floor that’s never empty. Eames’ grin is so big Arthur thinks his face must hurt, but he looks so proud, and so in love that Arthur simply throws his arms around his neck and allows Eames to spin him in a circle.

 

“You were unbelievable up there,” Eames gushes, kissing Arthur firmly.

 

Arthur laughs against his lips. “It was incredible. Like it wasn’t even me.”

 

Eames’ eyes are warm and soft and he brushes his thumb over Arthur’s cheek. “Are you happy, darling?”

 

“So, so happy. Thank you.” Arthur kisses him, pressing up all along Eames’ front and feeling just how pleased Eames is with him. “Is that for me?”

 

“It’s always for you,” Eames tells him, biting at his lip. “I’ve been half hard all night at how gorgeous you are in that dress.”

 

Arthur pulls back a little to look Eames in the eye. “Show me how good I look.”

 

Eames grabs his hand immediately, pulling him through the crowd to the front of the hall. There are people everywhere, and Eames tries one locked door another before dragging Arthur through an emergency exit that thankfully doesn’t set off any alarms. He pushes Arthur up against a rough brick wall, kissing him until he’s panting and hard. Eames’ jacket is still on his chair inside, and he shivers as a cold wind passes them.

 

“I want to devour you,” Eames pants, hands pushing up under Arthur’s skirt.

 

“Do it,” Arthur whines as Eames’ thumbs trace his erection through the padded satin. “I want you to.”

 

Eames doesn’t need to be told twice, it seems. He ducks his head under Arthur’s dress and pulls down his panties, taking Arthur’s cock into his mouth and giving him one long, slow suck.

 

Arthur’s head hits the wall and he groans. He can’t see Eames, but there’s something obscene about watching him move under the hem of his dress, bobbing his head while his hands grope at any part of Arthur he can reach.

 

Arthur’s fingertips bite into the brick as he fights to stay still. They have to go back inside at some point and Eames’ ruined slacks will tell their story without Arthur’s torn dress adding commentary.

 

Eames moans around him, his other hand gripping a handful of Arthur’s ass cheek and kneading in counterpoint to his mouth. He presses Arthur forward, slurping around him as he controls Arthur’s thrusts. It’s getting harder to stay still with Eames hot and wet around him, allowing Arthur only a semblance of control, and Arthur whines. Eames’ hand slides down in response, pressing a dry finger over Arthur’s hole and making him arch further into his waiting mouth.

 

Arthur’s breaths go ragged, and he can hear people talking around the front of the building, can smell their cigarettes, and knows at any moment someone could discover them. Eames rubs over his hole, sucking hard at the head of Arthur’s cock and making him buck. Eames makes a pleased noise that Arthur feels rather than hears, and sucks harder, taking him in deeper on every other slide of his lips.

 

His orgasm is building quickly, but he can’t quite block out his panic over being discovered. Eames works away diligently, his finger getting closer and closer to slipping inside Arthur, and it’s driving him insane. He wants to come so bad, wants to fills Eames’s mouth until come is dripping down his chin and Arthur can lick him clean. Eames’ fingertip nudges its way inside him and Arthur presses down on the bite on his shoulder, gasping at the burst of pain and coming hard, shaking against Eames’ hold on his hip as he sucks greedily at Arthur’s cock until every last drop is wrung out of him.

 

Eames tucks him back into his panties while Arthur tries not to hyperventilate in the cold night air. Eames licks a stripe up Arthur’s chest as he stands, scraping his teeth over Arthur’s jugular before kissing him deeply. Arthur moans at the taste of himself on Eames’ tongue, his arms going around Eames’ neck. They’re of a height with Arthur slumped against the wall, and Eames grinds against him shamelessly.

 

“Fuck me,” Arthur begs, pulling Eames closer.

 

Eames chuckles darkly. “We’re expected back inside.”

 

“I don’t care, take me home and fuck me.” Arthur bites Eames’ earlobe.

 

“Why don’t I just fuck you right here, hmm?” Eames asks, his voice sinfully dark.

 

“Yes,” Arthur pants. “Yes, yes, no, shit.”

 

Eames pauses his mauling of Arthur’s neck. “What is it?” 

 

“My purse is inside.”

 

Eames slumps into him. “We definitely have to go back inside, then.”

 

“I’ll go,” Arthur decides, pushing him away. “Your suit pants are ruined and everyone is going to know what we were doing. I’ll get my stuff, you get the car.” 

 

Eames raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to go back in there. With all those people. Looking like you just got shagged in an alleyway?”

 

Arthur swallows, thankful for the alcohol still buzzing in this veins. “Yes.”

 

“Well, Daddy is proud, kitten. He’ll have to give you something extra special as a reward.” Eames grins, tugging at Arthur’s wig to straighten it.

 

Arthur smoothes down his dress and gives a curt nod. “Right, I’ll meet you out front.”

 

He goes back inside before he can second-guess himself, trying to ignore the feeling that people at staring at him as he makes his way back to their table. Bobby and Saito are still there, wrapped up in each other and giggling in between kisses. Arthur picks up his purse and stands awkwardly until they notice him.

 

“We’re leaving,” he says bluntly, wincing.

 

Bobby’s eyes flit over him and he gives him an amused smile. “Try to make it home this time, okay?”

 

Arthur flushes, but he tosses his hair. “I make no promises.”

 

Bobby’s laughter follows him out of the hall. He makes it all the way to the front door before he remembers his coat and has to go back. He doesn’t have any cash so he drops a condom into the tip jar with a shrug and heads outside. Eames revs the car when he sees him and Arthur has to keep himself from running towards it. Derailing their night with a broken ankle from running in heels isn’t something he’s keen to do.

 

Eames’ hands are all over him the second his door is closed, and the car behind them has to honk to get them moving. Eames is touching Arthur every second he’s not shifting gears, and they only make it halfway home before Eames pulls the car over and unzips his pants. He curls Arthur’s hand around him and drops his head back with a curse. Arthur unbuckles his seatbelt and kicks off his shoes, leaning across to mouth at Eames’ neck.

 

“If you can get us home safely you can fuck me in the car.” Arthur whispers.

 

Eames’ licks his bottom lip, watching Arthur closely. “You hate fucking in the car.”

 

“Maybe it’s the dress, but I’m feeling open to all sorts of things tonight.” Arthur purrs, twisting his wrist.

 

“Put your seatbelt on,” Eames grunts, starting the car and peeling out. 

 

Arthur giggles at Eames’s cock, still out and swaying with the movements of the car.

 

“You won’t be laughing for long,” Eames warns.

 

“Promises, promises,” Arthur singsongs back at him, reaching over to hold Eames’ loosely in his hand.

 

Ten minutes later, Eames has the car parked in its stall and he’s pulling Arthur over the seats into the back of the car. He slips his trousers and underwear down and pulls Arthur into his lap, peeling off his panties slowly. Arthur opens his purse and slicks up Eames’ fingers, grinding his teeth at the stretch when Eames presses two in without preamble.

 

“Okay?” he checks.

 

Arthur nods, gripping Eames’ shoulders and bearing down. “Just like prom night.”

 

Eames stills, blinking owlishly at Arthur until he makes an impatient noise. Eames stretches him quickly, but efficiently, getting three fingers inside him without pause. Arthur’s sweating and gasping by the time Eames lines up the head of his cock. Arthur grabs his wrist, stopping him.

 

“Condom.”

 

“No,” Eames responds.

 

“I’m not cleaning the seats. And if you ruin my dress I’ll be very, very upset.”

 

Eames purses his lips. “Fine.”

 

Arthur scrambles back and digs in his purse for a condom, tearing open the pack and sliding it over Eames. He strokes him a few times and Eames bats his hands away and pulls him back into his lap.

 

“Ready, kitten?” Eames asks, pushing in before Arthur can even open his mouth to respond.

 

The stretch is uncomfortable and the position is a little awkward, but Arthur knows if he can push past it and get Eames fully inside him, it will be worth it. Eames scoots lower on the seat, shoving Arthur down the last few inches and making him cry out.

 

Arthur braces himself against the roof, letting Eames pump up into him, relaxing until Eames’ cock is a welcomed fullness and he can roll his hips to meet him.

 

Eames slows down, pulling Arthur to him so he can pant against his neck, guiding Arthur’s movements and pressing kisses anywhere he can reach.

 

“Darling,” Eames coos, unzipping Arthur’s dress. “Arthur.”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur raises his hands so Eames can pull the dress off, throwing it over the front seat.

 

“I want to make you come again. Can you do that for me?” Eames pulls off the wig and it joins the dress.

 

“Yes, fuck, yes, please.” Arthur grinds down, seeking out friction on his prostate.

 

“Shh, shh, slow down. Daddy wants to take his time with his boy.” The bra is next, leaving Arthur completely naked on top of Eames.

 

“Not with his girl?” Arthur asks, aching to speed Eames up.

 

“No, I don’t think so. You are lovely all dressed up, but you’ll always be my special boy.” Eames tells him, kissing Arthur’s chest.

 

“Yes, Daddy.”

 

“Is that okay?” Eames asks, rubbing his thumb over Arthur’s nipple.

 

Arthur nods, gasping when Eames pinches the nipple. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

“You’ve been so accommodating today, darling. Daddy is very appreciative. Just a little more now, yeah?”

 

“Yes, anything, I-” Arthur gasps when Eames hits his prostate, sending lazy shocks through him. He’s still high from the adrenaline of the alley, but he’s had a lot of champagne, and despite his need, he’s not certain he can come again.

 

“I don’t know if I can,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

“That’s okay, darling. Just let Daddy take care of you.” Eames pulls him down, sucking a bruise into Arthur’s neck while he rolls his hips up, fucking into Arthur at a lazy pace.

 

Arthur relaxes, leaning into Eames and letting himself be used. Eames feels safe and solid underneath him and it strikes him again how odd it felt to have Bobby worried about him. To have someone think Eames could ever hurt him, especially someone who knows Eames. But Bobby never got to see Eames during play. He was never in Arthur’s shoes, never got to be what Arthur is to Eames so he can’t understand how much love and care and devotion goes into everything Eames does to him. 

 

He realizes, suddenly, how foolish his jealousy of Bobby was, and why Eames was so confused by it. For Arthur, there will never be another Eames, and for Eames, there will never be, nor has there ever been, another Arthur.

 

“I love you so much,” Arthur mumbles into Eames’ neck.

 

Eames’ fingers clamp down on Arthur’s neck, pinning him down while his deep strokes take Arthur apart.

 

“Say it again,” Eames demands, his voice a wreck.

 

“I love you, Eames, I love you so much.” Arthur latches onto Eames’ shoulder, biting tentatively, then harder when Eames groans and his fingers tighten around Arthur’s nape, pressing him closer.

 

Arthur bites and sucks, relishing the taste of Eames in his mouth, the feel of him in his ass. Eames speeds up, bouncing Arthur in his lap while he holds him in place so as not to dislodge Arthur’s mouth from his skin. Arthur clenches down around Eames and digs his fingers into the seat back, thrusting back against Eames as much as he can until Eames is pulling him down and keeping him there, shuddering through his orgasm and panting Arthur’s name.

 

Arthur’s teeth ache when he dislodges them from Eames’ shoulder and Eames hisses at the swipe of Arthur’s tongue.

 

“Sorry,”

 

“Don’t be,” Eames tells him, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s sternum. 

 

Arthur smiles down at him and Eames cups his face in his hands, eyes soft and adoring. “You are everything to me, Arthur.”

 

“I know,” Arthur tells him, his throat thick with emotion. “I know, and that makes me so happy.”

 

“Are you? Are you truly, wholly happy, darling?”

 

Arthur grips Eames wrists. “Yes. Absolutely. I’ve never been so happy in my life, I didn’t even know it was possible to feel like this, I-” Arthur cuts himself off, wary of going too far.

 

“You what? Don’t stop.” Eames smiles, his eyes crinkling.

 

Arthur swallows, choosing his words carefully. He flexes his fingers on Eames’ wrists and licks his lips. “I never want to be anywhere but right here. With you. Forever.”

 

Eames’ eyes widening are his only reaction, but he kisses Arthur softly. “I am extremely pleased to hear that.”

 

“I just wanted to make sure you knew. That you understood.”

 

Eames smiles at him and it’s such a sweet, loving smile that Arthur’s chest aches.

 

Knocking on the window startles them and Arthur flails in his attempt to cover up, knocking his head into the dome light before falling onto the seat beside Eames. 

 

“Yoo-hoo! Hello boys!” Ms. Kreptal knocks again on the fogged up window.

 

“Oh my god, this is not happening,” Arthur mutters, pulling the dress back on hastily.

 

“Just a moment, Ms. Kreptal,” Eames calls cheerfully, tying off the condom and pulling his pants back up.

 

Arthur curls up in the corner of the seat, refusing to even look in the old woman’s direction while Eames rolls down the window.

 

“What are you doing out this late, dearie?” Eames asks, leaning out of the window.

 

“Oh, you know I don’t sleep well these days. I didn’t want to interrupt your fun, but you’ve left your lights on.”

 

“Oh goodness, have I?” Eames says brightly.

 

“Happens to all of us at some point or another. Love is awfully distracting, isn’t it?” she laughs. “Hello, Arthur, dear!”

 

“Hello, Ms. Kreptal,” Arthur says reluctantly, surprised the heat in his face hasn’t lit the car on fire yet.

 

“Well, I’ll let you get upstairs. I figured the least I could do was wait until you’d finished to interrupt.”

 

Arthur groans into his hands, but Eames just laughs. “Much appreciated, Ms. Kreptal.”

 

Eames rolls up the window and reaches over the seat to turn off the lights. 

 

“I cannot believe that just happened. We seriously have to move now,” Arthur grumbles, still hiding behind his hands.

 

“I don’t know, love. She’s polite, cheerful, and obviously not bothered by two men having sex in a car in plain view of their neighbours.”

 

“What are you saying?” Arthur frowns.

 

“I’m saying that when we move, we might have to take Ms. Kreptal with us.”


	10. January 3rd: Ten Minute Head Start

Arthur holds his breath, trying to listen for sounds of movement over the discord of the forest around him. He could have sworn he’d heard whistling as he stumbled through trees, but now that he’s stopped moving he can’t be sure. The walkie-talkie at his hip crackles to life and he startles, fumbling with it as Eames’ staticky words come through.

 

“Clever boy, walking in the stream. Are your feet wet, love? Are they cold?”

 

Arthur’s panting and half hard just from the taunting tone of Eames’ voice. He’s been running, hiding from Eames for at least an hour, and he’s starting to tire. He’s hungry and his leg stings from where he fell and scraped it raw against a rock. He used his pocket knife to cut away the torn section of his pant leg tied it around a sapling, a favour, left behind for Eames to find.

 

“Darling,” Eames calls. “Do you miss me yet?”

 

“How could I miss you when you never shut up?” Arthur snarls into the walkie-talkie.

 

Eames’s dark laugh cuts out halfway through and when he speaks again, the threat in his voice makes Arthur shiver. “Just you wait, kitten. Daddy’s going to find you. And when I do, there’ll be no one around to hear you scream.”

 

Arthur’s up and running before Eames has finished speaking. At first, he considered just climbing a tree and hiding out until Eames went past, but Arthur wants to be caught. Wants to lead Eames on a merry chase until he’s hunted down and forced to submit to Eames’ will.

 

He’s been heading east, away from where he’s reasonably sure the road lies. They’d driven out early that morning after a hearty breakfast and a very attentive shower where Eames spent half an hour stretching Arthur open with his fingers. The box had sat in his lap the whole ride, his fingers stroking the satin bow holding it closed as he enjoyed the darkness and loss of direction his blindfold provided. Eames had stopped the car and pulled him out, handing him the walkie-talkie and a compass and tearing the lid off the box.  _ Ten Minute Head Start _ . 

 

Eames’ laugh had followed him through the brush, fading as Arthur climbed slowly upwards and away from their camp, his skin buzzing with the thrill of being chased. The winter sun is high in the sky now, bright, but doing nothing to abate the bite of cold in the air. 

 

“Guess what I’ve found, darling.” Eames voice crackles. “A switch. Long and slender, just like you. What sort of noise do you think it will make when it hits your skin?”

 

Arthur doesn’t realize he’s stopped moving again until a rabbit jumps out of the underbrush, scaring the shit out of him.

 

“You know you can’t hide from me for long,” Eames continues, unaware of the mini heart attack Arthur’s having. “I’m going to catch you soon. And when I do I’m going to fuck you raw. You know that, don’t you, love?”

 

“You have to find me first, fucker,” Arthur growls into the walkie, his head snapping up when he hears rustling about twenty feet away.

 

“Ahhhthahhh,” Eames’ voice floats through the trees and Arthur turns and runs. Branches whip at this face and arms, like fingers, reaching out to clutch at his clothing, slowing him down. He can’t hear if Eames is chasing him over the noise he’s making, but he knows better than to look back to check.

 

He trips over a tree root, barely catching himself before he lands face first in the spongy floor of the forest. He rights himself, pausing for the briefest moment to steady his footing on the trunk of a tree. That’s when Eames barrels into him from the side, knocking the air out of him and tackling Arthur to the ground.

 

Arthur is fighting back before he can even suck in a breath, clawing at Eames when he tries to pin Arthur’s arms across his chest. Eames laughs at him, his eyes bright and dangerous, and Arthur snarls, bucking up to unseat him. But Arthur’s blood is rushing, adrenaline pumping through him, and as a result, he’s hard as a rock. He whines when his erection rubs against Eames and his struggle quickly turns from seeking freedom to finding friction.

 

Eames laughs again, using Arthur’s distraction to flip him onto his stomach, shoving his face into leaves and dirt as he wrestles Arthur’s pants down. The next thing Arthur knows, his hands are being tied behind him with what he’s certain is his own belt. Eames hauls him to his feet, biting down on Arthur’s shoulder and groping his ass before he pushes him back down, this time over the trunk of a fallen tree.

 

“Stay down,” Eames growls when Arthur tries to fight back. A boot comes down in the middle of his back, not hard, but enough to let him know he has nowhere to go.

 

“Fuck you,” Arthur snarls, twisting his hands in their bindings.

 

“Oh, darling, I knew you’d love this,” Eames says, the pride in his voice making Arthur whimper in need. “Now, about that switch.”

 

Arthur stills. Eames is going to whip him. With a switch. In the middle of a forest after having hunted him down. Arthur moans, low and long, and Eames chuckles darkly in response. He feels the cool pressure of the switch against his leg, sliding up over his ass cheek and then back down the opposite side.

 

“I’ve never used one on these before,” Eames says, sounding contemplative. “We’ll have to experiment.”

Arthur goes limp, the bark of the fallen tree rough against his cheek as he pants. Eames eases his boot off Arthur’s back and carefully folds back the bottom of his shirt, tucking the ends under Arthur to keep it in place. He doesn’t warn Arthur before he starts and the noise Arthur makes his akin to a squeak toy when the switch makes contact. Unlike a paddle or Eames’ hand, the pain from the switch is immediate, lancing through his leg like a hot poker. Eames hits him twice more in quick succession, pausing only to back up and examine the marks.

 

“Interesting,” he murmurs, rubbing gently over Arthur’s thigh. Arthur gasps at the touch, trying to curl away. But there’s nowhere to go and Eames just shushes him. The switch comes down three more times on the opposite side and each time it makes a whistling noise as Eames brings it down, snapping unforgivingly against Arthur’s flesh.

 

The pain is so intense Arthur can barely breathe, each blow forcing all the air out of his lungs as the ache burns through him. His fingers are going numb, the rest of his body not far behind and he slips quickly and resolutely into subspace.

 

“Arthur?” Eames calls, pulling his head up by his hair, the nerves on Arthur’s scalp pricking delightfully. “Darling, talk to me.”

 

Arthur grumbles, tugging against Eames’ hold, pain singing through him.

 

“Perfect,” Eames praises, curling over Arthur’s back. “I’m not nearly done with you yet, kitten.”

 

Arthur hums in agreement, startling away from the shock of cold when Eames slips a knife under the hem of his shirt and splits the fabric up the back. He efficiently cuts away Arthur’s sleeves, letting the tip of the knife press into the vulnerable skin of Arthur’s neck before slicing the shirt away completely.

 

Arthur shivers in the cold air and Eames rubs a warm hand down his back, sliding down to remove Arthur’s pants and underwear from where they’ve pooled around his knees. His shoes and socks join the pile and then he’s being pulled to his feet and backed against a large tree. Eames releases the belt only to produce a length of rope from his jacket pocket. He ties Arthur to the tree, his arms pulled back and tied tightly so that all he has to grasp is the uneven bark that bites into the soft skin of his arms.

 

His head lolls against the tree as Eames comes back around to face him. “Daddy,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

 

“Yes, darling, Daddy’s here.” Eames pulls a bottle of water out of a backpack Arthur hadn’t noticed before. He holds it to Arthur lips, tipping it until it’s trickling over Arthur’s chin and down his chest as he struggles to drink the sudden flow. 

 

Eames takes the bottle away when Arthur starts to shiver, capping it and putting it back in the bag. He pulls out a packet of lube and opens his pants, his eyes dark and slitted as they roam over Arthur’s naked body. Eames pulls his cock out, thick and full, precome beading at the tip as he strokes it to full hardness. He rips the packet of lube open and smears it over his cock, not even bothering to push his pants off his hips. It’s callous and obscene, and Arthur wants him so badly he starts to whine with need.

 

Eames continues to work his cock as he walks back to Arthur, not stopping until he’s so close Arthur can feel the brush of his clothing and Eames’ hand bumps his hip as he strokes himself.

 

“You look like a tree sprite,” Eames says softly, his breath warm on Arthur’s cheek. “Caught and pinned for me to study.”

 

“Sprites are usually harmless unless threatened,” Arthur tells him, licking his lips.

 

“Is that so? Do you feel threatened, little sprite? Do I scare you?” Eames’ teeth scrape over Arthur’s jaw.

 

“No,” Arthur gasps as Eames’ hand slides between his legs, avoiding Arthur’s cock to stroke over his testicles.

 

“Let’s see what we can do about that, hmm?” Eames crushes him against the tree, his fingers digging into the outside of Arthur’s thighs as he jerks them up and open.

 

Arthur cries out at the pressure on the welts left behind by the switch and the coarse bite of the bark at his back. But then Eames is there, so close and so warm, the thick head of his cock pushing into Arthur and stealing his voice. His fingers scrape against the tree, seeking purchase as he opens around Eames’ insistent heat.

 

He’s prepped, but it’s been hours since then and the sweat wrought from his sprint through the woods has rid him of most of the slick Eames so carefully left inside him. Eames shoves in with one solid push, letting Arthur’s body weight to most of the work while he slides down onto Eames. Arthur’s teeth are chattering from the cold and from the sudden invasion, but Eames doesn’t let him adjust before he pulls out and slams back in, shoving Arthur further up the tree.

 

Arthur grits his teeth against the scratching of the bark, panting in sharp bursts as Eames fucks into him, sharp and brutal, using Arthur’s thighs for purchase. His rhythm is ruthless and yet he still finds the coordination to attack Arthur’s neck, mauling him with teeth and stubble until Arthur feels raw and Eames’ cock has stretched him wide enough for comfort. Just as Arthur’s starting to relax into the push and pull of Eames inside him, Eames slows down, pumping a lazy cadence of only a few inches.

 

“What about now, little sprite? Are you afraid?” Eames punctuates his words by digging his fingers into Arthur’s thighs, the pain making Arthur gasp and try to raise himself in an effort to get away. “Ah, ah, ah, you’re not going anywhere, lovely. You’re all mine.”

 

“It hurts,” Arthur whines, wishing he could free his hands and touch Eames. Score his nails down his arms and back in retaliation.

 

“It’s supposed to hurt, pet. That’s what makes it so good, isn’t it?” Eames pumps his hips, pulling Arthur forward so the thrust goes deeper, hitting his prostate with deadly accuracy.

 

“Fuck,” Arthur cries, unsure of whether he wants to grind down or pull away from Eames’ touch, and this is it, this is exactly what he loves. Eames knows him so well, knows that Arthur craves that confusion, that space between the good and the bad where his senses can’t tell the difference and he has no choice but to hand his pain and pleasure over to Eames for safekeeping.

 

“That’s it, little one,” Eames soothes, his thrusts steady and on target every damn time, making Arthur keen and whine.

 

Arthur’s fingers seek out the cracks in the bark and he presses his shoulders against the tree, letting the pain ground him as he tries to shove himself down on Eames, closing his eyes against the sharp bursts of want that flood through his body along with his endorphins.

 

“Come for me, my beautiful little nymph. Come for Daddy.” Eames presses him more firmly against the tree and wraps a hand around Arthur’s cock, jerking him firm and quick.

 

Arthur squeezes his eyes closed, grinding down and clenching around Eames, biting his lip until he tastes blood and then Eames is kissing him, sharing the sharp copper taste between them as Arthur comes, hard and fast, groaning around Eames’ tongue in his mouth, wood splinters spiking under his nails as his fingers cramp and spasm.

 

Eames slips his tongue out of Arthur’s mouth and replaces it with his fingers, the salty sweet taste of still warm spunk invading his senses. He sucks at Eames’ fingers eagerly, taking everything he’s offered.

 

“They say if you accept food from a faerie you belong to them forever,” Eames says reverently, watching Arthur lick his hand clean. “But what’s the rule about a human feeding a faerie?”

 

Arthur bites down on Eames’ index and middle fingers, dragging his teeth along them until they slip out of his mouth and down his chin. “We accept tributes.”

 

Eames’ smile is wicked as he slides his come-covered thumb between Arthur’s lips. “Is that so? What kind of tribute would you accept, little fey? Will this do?” he asks, smearing Arthur’s come over his lips and watching him lick it off.

 

Arthur shakes his head, his breath hitching when Eames shifts his weight and moves inside him. “Give me a part of you and I’ll be yours forever.”

 

Eames leans in and kisses Arthur gently, using the movement to shove in deeper and stealing the gasp from Arthur’s mouth.

 

“I’m holding you to that, little sprite.” Eames readjusts his grip on Arthur’s thighs and pulls out slowly, meeting Arthur’s eyes before plunging back in, his hips slamming against Arthur’s hiked-up thighs as he bottoms out. He does it again, and again, nearly folding Arthur in two against the tree as he fucks him. He keeps up a brutal pace, and Arthur forgets sometimes, just how strong Eames is. How powerful and steadfast he can be when his sole goal is to take Arthur apart. 

 

“More,” Arthur begs, the sounds of their coupling echoing above the din of the forest. He remembers Eames’ promises while he was running and the next time Eames hits his oversensitive prostate, Arthur screams.

 

Eames growls against his neck and speeds up so Arthur does it again, crying out on every thrust until Eames’ rhythm is faltering and he’s shoving in as deep as he can and biting down on Arthur’s neck as he fucks him roughly through his own orgasm. Eames keeps going, thrusting into Arthur until he’s soft and Arthur’s a mess. There’s come streaking down his legs and his back feels raw, but inside he’s buzzing, floating high on Eames’ attention and pleasure.

 

Eames’ breaths are stuttering in and out, ghosting over Arthur’s collarbone where his face is pressed to Arthur’s skin. He’s shaking a little and Arthur’s not sure if it’s from exertion or emotion, but he can’t put his arms around Eames so he presses kisses to the side of his head, the only spot on Eames that he can reach. Eames pulls back, and he looks absolutely wrecked. His eyes are red and drooping, his mouth swollen and slack from his attack on Arthur’s neck. He gently lowers Arthur’s leg’s, steadying him before pulling the knife out of its sheath on his belt and cutting away the rope tying Arthur to the tree. 

 

Arthur whimpers as his arms flop forward and Eames catches him, holding Arthur close until he can stand on his own. Arthur’s shivering again and Eames doesn’t stop touching him, one hand on Arthur’s exposed flesh at all times as he helps him step back into his underwear and jeans, sliding his hand up Arthur’s calf as he tries to put Arthur’s wet socks and shoes back on one handed. Arthur takes over and when he’s done he tucks Eames back into his pants, sliding his hands under Eames’ shirt as a hooded sweater appears from the depths of the backpack and is pulled it over Arthur’s head. 

 

Eames sits on the fallen tree he whipped Arthur over and tugs him into his lap, curving his body protectively around Arthur’s.

 

“Do you think you can walk?” Eames asks once Arthur has stopped shivering.

 

“Yes,” Arthur says, tucking his face into Eames’ neck, completely content to sit there with Eames wrapped around him forever.

 

“We best get back to camp before the sun goes down. It’s not too far, you went in a pretty neat circle.”

 

“Did I? I thought I was going in a straight line.” Arthur says, disgruntled.

 

Eames chuckles, “Darling, you can barely read a map, are you really that surprised that you got lost in a forest?”

 

“Then how did you find me?”

 

Eames ducks his head and laces his fingers with Arthur’s. “There’s a location chip in the walkie-talkie.”

 

Arthur gapes and punches Eames in the leg. “You cheated!”

 

Eames laughs and grabs Arthur’s chin, pulling him forward until Eames’ lips brush over his when he speaks. “To find you I’d do a lot of things. And to keep you I’d do anything.”

 

Arthur shivers and Eames kisses the tip of his nose. Arthur pulls away and bites Eames’ neck in retaliation, but Eames just laughs and pushes him to his feet. He collects their things and takes Arthur’s hand. It takes them about half an hour to get back to where they started, and another hour after that for Eames to get everything set up. Apparently they  _ are _ camping here for the night and it wasn’t all just a ruse to get Arthur into the woods. Arthur sits in a folding camp chair eating a package of beef jerky while Eames does all the work, and as soon as he has a fire going, Eames coaxes him closer, peeling the sweater off to disinfect the scratches on Arthur’s back and arms, and spread a salve over the angry gouges. Arthur sits close to the fire, in the vee of Eames’ legs as he eats a simple dinner and relaxes. 

  
They don’t speak much, the natural serenity of the woods moving them to communicate without words, and after dinner, when Arthur strips Eames slowly and crawls into his lap, he knows with utter certainty that Eames catches everything Arthur’s body tells him.


	11. January 4th: Eleven PDA's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the huge delay! It's been over a month and I am so, so grateful for those of you still reading along! Notice that the chapter count has changed and we're only one chapter away from the end now!

It starts at breakfast the next morning, after they’ve risen with the sun and packed up camp, Eames tossing it all in the trunk of the car and laughing when Arthur pulls it back out, repacks it  _ properly _ , and reloads the car, using half the space as before. There’s been no box yet, but Arthur knows it’s coming and the suspense is killing him. 

 

They’re standing in the crowded lobby of a small diner, waiting to be seated, when Eames slips his hand in the back pocket of Arthur’s jeans, pulling him close and squeezing his ass through the denim. Arthur freezes and slowly turns his head to stare at Eames, his eyes wide with shock.

 

Eames knows how Arthur feels about public displays of affection, knows that he finds it perverse and crass, and that it makes Arthur horribly embarrassed to think that other people can see them, and might be picturing what Arthur and Eames get up to in private.

 

The wicked smirk on Eames’ face tells him that Eames knows exactly what he’s doing. He gives Arthur’s ass cheek another tight squeeze and slips his hand out, trailing his fingers across Arthur’s waist. There’s a weight in his back pocket that wasn’t there before, like Eames’ hand has left a permanent mark, heavy and dense, obnoxiously bright for all to see. He can feel the flush rising up his neck, knows his ears are slowly turning pink, and he curses the way his cock twitches when he thinks about where else Eames might touch him while they’re in public.

 

They’re shown to a table in the middle of the restaurant and Eames drops heavily into his chair, picking up the menu and ignoring Arthur fidgeting while he stands on the other side of the table.

 

“Are you waiting for permission?” Eames asks, raising an eyebrow at Arthur over his menu.

 

Arthur huffs out an angry breath and kicks the chair out from the table, sliding into it and hiding in the folds of his own menu. He calms a little as he looks it over, picking out waffles with whipped cream and strawberries and a side of bacon because he was chased through the woods and fucked against a tree yesterday and he’s earned those calories, thank you very much.

 

When he puts the menu down, there’s a folded piece of cardstock on the table. His pulse picks up and his mouth goes dry. Eames is watching him, smug and relaxed from his side of the table.

 

“Figured I’d forego the box today.”

 

Arthur stares at the paper, unsure of whether or not he wants to pick it up. Eames know he has a humiliation kink, and he knows how to work it perfectly so that Arthur feels embarrassed yet never vulnerable in public, but it’s been a long ten days and his nerves are getting a little frayed. A dark voice inside his head whispers that being on edge will only make it sweeter when Eames pushes his limits. Bigger risk, bigger payoff, and Eames is the biggest risk he’s ever taken. 

 

He snatches the paper off the table before he can change his mind, but before he can read it, the waitress appears, smiling brightly. Eames watches him closely as he orders, nodding and smiling like he approves when Arthur’s done. Eames orders the breakfast hash and as soon as the waitress is gone, his eyes are back on Arthur, a predatory smile back on his face. He sets his elbows on the table and stares at Arthur over his laced fingers. 

 

Arthur looks around at the busy diner. Every table is full of families taking advantage of the last weekend before life returns to normal after the holidays. There are easily a hundred people around them, chatting and laughing, some arguing, while they enjoy their meals. Probably no one will even notice Arthur and Eames. Except Arthur knows they will. People always do. There’s always someone watching. Goosebumps rise in a waves over his skin and he shifts in his seat. Eames’ smile grows and his foot bumps Arthur’s under the table.

 

Arthur open the paper under the table, taking a fortifying breath before he reads it. 

 

_ Eleven PDA’s _

 

Arthur bites his lip and considers the offering. And that’s what it is, he remind himself, it’s an offer. He doesn’t have to accept. But the thing is that he wants to. He’s surprised himself over the past ten days and stopping now, when they’re so close to the end, is a failure that will haunt him. It’s not as if he doesn’t like it when Eames touches him; he really, really does, it’s the public part of it that sets him off. He doesn’t know why, any memories he had of his life before foster care have long been repressed, but it’s as ingrained in his psyche as his hatred of spectacle. 

 

But four days ago he let Eames fuck him in front of seven other people, and ever since he’s felt a little invincible. So he carefully folds the paper back up and slips it into his back pocket, the same one Eames put his hand in, and it’s an expectant weight there now. Like a promise.

 

“Do I get to set any parameters?” Arthur asks, already knowing the answer, but feeling like he has to try.

 

“Nope,” Eames says easily, his eyes still glued to Arthur’s face.

 

“What does that mean? There are laws, you know.”

 

“I know that, and I won’t break any, but you don’t get to know what’s coming for this one.”

 

Arthur snorts. “When do I ever?”

 

Eames grins wider and Arthur steals his cup, fixing Eames’ coffee just the way he likes it and sliding it back across the table.

 

“Thank you, darling.”

 

“Are you going to stare at me the whole time?” Arthur huffs.

 

Eames shrugs. “Why not, you’re lovely to look at.”

 

“You’re not looking at me, you’re staring. It’s different.”

 

“It is,” Eames agrees. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

 

Arthur shifts in his seat, fighting the urge to look at the people around them, to see who might be noticing Eames’ intense gaze.

 

“You look like you’re going to murder me.”

 

Eames laughs, sitting back, but not looking away. “Stuff you and keep you forever?”

 

“Exactly,” Arthur says, taking a sip of coffee. “Serial killer-esque. That’s how I’m going to describe you to people from now on.”

 

“How do you describe me?” Eames asks with genuine curiosity.

 

Arthur frowns. “What?”

 

“When people at work ask you about your partner, what do you say?”

 

Arthur’s stomach drops and he looks away. He can’t do this here. 

 

“Arthur?” Eames’ voice is quiet now, teasing. “What do you tell them?”

 

Arthur shakes his head, his fingers digging into his thighs.

 

“Shall I take a guess? Hmm, let me see.  _ Arthur, what’s your handsome boyfriend like? _ ” Eames says, his voice pitched higher. “Well,” he grumbles, making a mockery of Arthur’s tenor. “He’s kind, and he cooks, and he’s got a really big c-”

 

“Stop!” Arthur kicks him under the table, laughing despite his annoyance. “There are children present, Mr. Eames.”

 

“Then tell me. I really want to know.” Eames cups his chin in his hands, somehow managing to look stern and completely adorable at the same time.

 

Arthur’s skin is burning. It’s one thing for Eames to touch and tease him while they’re in public, it’s quite another to him to ask Arthur to lay himself bare. Eames is staring at him again, waiting patiently for Arthur to make up his mind, to stop or restart this little game of theirs.

 

Arthur takes a large gulp of coffee, the liquid splashing over the rim of the cup when he puts it down too hard. He uses his napkin to clean the mess, distracting him while he answers. “They asked a lot after that corporate thing you came to. The one party,” he clarifies, darting a look at Eames. He clears his throat, folding the sodden napkin into thirds and setting it aside. “You were so personable and nice, I think they suspected I’d paid you to be there.”

 

“Arthur,” Eames says softly, not quite an admonishment, but close.

 

Arthur laughs weakly, realigning his cutlery. “No, it’s true. They kept asking me ‘where I found you’.”

 

“What did you tell them?”

 

Arthur raises his head, looking Eames in the eye. “That you chose me.”

 

A genuine smile spreads over Eames’ face and he reaches out to still Arthur’s hand, rubbing his thumb over Arthur’s wrist.

 

He shifts in his seat, eyes pinned to Eames’ hand on him. “Anyway, I tell them that you’re too loud, and a terrible dresser, and that you have the worst sense of humour I’ve ever encountered.”

 

“Liar,” Eames says, fondly.

 

“I tell them,” Arthur takes a breath, blowing it out slowly to calm himself. The diner feels too quiet all of a sudden. Like everyone stopped to stare while Eames’ fingers ghost over his skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. “I tell them you’re good. That you take care of me, and listen to me, and, and that I can count on you.”

 

Eames’ fingers have gone tight around his wrist and when Arthur looks up he sees that Eames’ cheeks have gone a pink, his mouth soft and open.

 

“Then I tell them about your really big cock,” Arthur mock whispers, pulling his hand out of Eames’ grasp.

 

Eames laughs, loud and bright, melting all of Arthur’s reservations. He knows Eames will push him today, but it won’t be too far. It never is. Arthur pushes his chair back and stands, moving one seat over so he’s sitting beside Eames instead of across for him. He takes his time moving his coffee cup and rearranging the salt and pepper shakers so that they’re lined up with the seam in the center of the table, and when he’s finished, Eames’ hand slides over his knee, settling halfway up Arthur’s thigh when his legs fall open at the touch.

 

“Thank you, darling,” Eames says quietly.

 

Arthur nods, pressing his lips together until they hurt. The volume of the diner has returned and he sneaks a look around them. A family is sitting in a booth to their left, the parents suppressing laughter as their teenage daughter tells a story that involves a lot of eye rolling and handwaving. A young couple is angrily stabbing at a plate of shared pancakes, purposely not looking at each other as they fight for dominance over the last strawberry on the plate, and an elderly couple is sitting on the same side of their small booth, holding hands while they wait for their meal.

 

Eames fingers flex on his thigh and Arthur squirms. He wants to be able to let go and not worry about the touching and the look of open affection on Eames’ face, but it goes against everything Arthur’s mind is screaming at him.

 

The waitress appears with their food, but Eames doesn’t move his hand, he just smiles and says thank you, remarking on how fast it came.

 

“Honey, the name of the diner is ‘Speedy’s’. That’s not a mistake,” the waitress tells him, sauntering off.

 

Arthur snorts, hiding his laughter in his coffee up. Eames’ fingers dig into his thigh and he leans in, his breath warm on Arthur’s cheek.

 

“Laugh it up, darling,” his lips smear wetly over Arthur’s cheek and Arthur chokes out an inelegant noise, ducking his head away.

 

Eames’ hand remains a heavy weight on Arthur’s leg while they eat, leaving a warm imprint on his skin when he finally does remove it, sliding his fingers around Arthur’s neck as he sits back to wait for Arthur to finish eating. Arthur’s fork pauses on the way to his mouth, his waffle dripping strawberry sauce onto his plate as he has a silent freak out.

 

“Shall we walk around town a bit once we’re done here?” Eames asks as though his fingers aren’t caressing Arthur’s nape, disturbing the short hairs and making Arthur shiver.

 

“Do I have a choice?” Arthur asks, hating the heat he knows is showing in his face.

 

“Not really,” Eames says brightly, gently tugging on a section of hair. “But I know how you like to pretend you’re in charge.”

 

Arthur’s teeth click painfully on the fork and he chews carefully, doing his best to ignore Eames’ watchful gaze. 

 

“How was everything?” Their waitress asks when they’ve finished.

 

“Delightful, wasn’t it, Arthur?” Eames says, squeezing the back of Arthur’s neck and sending him a sharp smile.

 

“Yes,” Arthur affirms with a nod, barely looking up at the woman.

 

Eames drains his coffee, removing his hand to grab the bill and stand. Arthur hurries to follow, the places Eames has touched him burning like a brand. Eames leads him out with a hand on the small of Arthur’s back, his fingers sneaking up under Arthur’s jacket to stroke the dip above the swell of his ass. It’s secretive and terribly intimate, and Arthur feels ready to burst out of his skin, because they don’t do this,and it’s killing him that it feels so good.

 

Eames keeps a hand on him while they pay, and Arthur doesn’t turn around to look, but the restaurant is still busy, the lobby packed with people, and he knows, he knows, they’re all staring at where Eames’ hand disappears under Arthur’s clothing. Abruptly, he realizes he’s half hard in his jeans, the soft stroke of Eames’ skin as rousing as his breath over Arthur’s cock.

 

He angles his body toward Eames to hide his arousal and Eames’ hand relocates to his hip, pulling Arthur closer. The tips of his fingers are dipping into Arthur’s front pocket and someone clears their throat loudly behind them. Arthur goes stiff and Eames turns his head to kiss him gently on the curve of his ear. 

 

“You’re doing so well, pet,” he whispers. 

 

Arthur can’t breathe. He’s pulled out of the diner by Eames, his jaw clenched so tight his joints ache. Eames is looking at him from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t speak. Offers no more words of encouragement of reassurance, just drags him along, linking their fingers together and not letting Arthur pull away.

 

They wander further into town, Eames keeping Arthur at his hip, slowing down when Arthur tries to fall behind, to shield himself by hiding behind Eames’ broad frame, and moving him to the forefront when they stop to look in a show window so Eames can lean into him and hook his chin over Arthur’s shoulder. 

 

Arthur’s shoulders start to complain, his neck stiff and sore from holding so still. Somewhere in his mind he knows where he sits on the fight, flight, or freeze scale, and it whispers to him that if he can just stay still enough, no one will notice him. 

 

They’re passing in front of a boutique toy store when two women cross the street toward them. Arthur catches the movement in his peripheral vision and tilts his head to watch them. He estimates the women are in their forties, the little boy between them maybe five. He’s chatting animatedly while they walk, jumping onto the curb once they’re across. The pass Arthur and Eames, one of the women turning a warm smile in their direction before disappearing into the boutique. Arthur stares after them, wondering. 

 

Eames urges him along, stroking the inside of Arthur’s wrist with his thumb until he relents and resumes their stroll, his hand growing warm and lax in Eames’. It’s not so bad, he thinks, he likes being touched by Eames, likes the friction it creates, the insistent buzzing beneath his skin that settles into a hum as the contact continues. It’s different like this, though, the innocent press of their palms, their fingers tangled. Eames will sometimes take his hand when they’re sitting side-by-side, reading in bed, or watching tv on the couch. He’ll kiss the back of it, cradling the hand in his own. Arthur likes it like that, when it’s just the two of them. But this, being touched, marked as one of a pair, where others can see, it sets him on edge.

 

Arthur loves Eames, is happily claimed by him, day after day, and he wishes he knew why this is different. He wonders constantly what it was that formed this block in his mind that won’t let him relax, won’t let him accept kisses and simple touches when there are others around. He probes at it like a canker sore he can’t help but run his tongue over, but nothing emerges. Eames has warned him that he may not want to know. That it may do more harm than good, but Arthur’s never been good at leaving well enough alone.

 

Eames hums and pulls him closer, kissing his cheek as they pass a group of people gathered outside a small coffee shop. Arthur keeps his eyes glued to the pavement while his face heats up. No one says anything, and for all he knows, none of them even noticed, but it’s the possibility that they could have that bothers him. Bothers him and excites him, too. Along with his embarrassment comes a rush of lust. Eames putting hands on him, displaying his affection for Arthur where others can see, it leaves him with a heady awareness of his own body that he can’t ignore. 

 

There’s a small park at the end of the block and Eames leads him to a wooden bench, pulling a stiff but unprotesting Arthur into his lap. Arthur’s half hard in his jeans, wanting nothing more than for Eames to take him someplace secluded so he can either get off or let the feeling pass.

 

“You’re so brave,” Eames tells him seriously, his stroking Arthur’s flushed cheek. “How do you feel?”

 

Arthur squirms, unable to keep from darting a quick glance around the park. There’s a young woman tossing a ball for her golden retriever, using one of those plastic sticks to lob it further and further, the dog’s bright coat glinting as it chases the ball. A family of five is wandering around the grassy area, the children laughing and chasing one another, and two teenage boys are leaning against the outside wall of a pharmacy, sharing a cigarette and laughing in the space between the buildings.

 

“Arthur?” Eames prompts.

 

“I’m,” he starts, then grunts. “I don’t know.”

 

Eames smiles and turns Arthur’s head so he’s forced to look him in the eyes. “On a scale of one to ten, how uncomfortable are you, right now?”

 

Arthur presses his lips together, thinking. “Seven.”

 

Eames’s eyebrows go up and his smile grows. “That’s wonderful, darling. You’re doing much better than I’d thought you would.”

 

“I’m not weak,” Arthur protests.

 

“No, no, love. That’s not what I meant,” Eames assures him. “I thought by now you’d be as stiff as a board. But you’re not. You’re soft and easy. Letting me touch you how I like, in front of all these people.” Eames voice goes low and he starts nosing at Arthur’s jaw.

 

Arthur cuts his eye to the boys in the alley. One of them is watching he and Eames, his fingers stilled on the cigarette in his hand. Arthur looks away, pushing Eames back a bit.

 

“What would you do if I slipped my hand under your shirt right now?” Eames asks, his voice quiet and teasing.

 

“Probably punch you in the face,” Arthur answers honestly and Eames laughs, drawing the attention of the second boy.

 

Arthur watches them from the corner of his eye as Eames pets his hair, sending shivers down his neck and making his cock pulse. The blond whispers in the other’s ear and the boy shakes his head sternly, his red hair flopping over his brow. He doesn’t look mad, though, more resigned as he watches Arthur and Eames. His friend runs his hand down the boy’s arm, taking the cigarette and snuffing it out on the ground. 

 

Arthur mindlessly tilts his head to Eames’ nuzzling, giving himself a better view of the boys. The blond’s fingers tug gently at the hem of the other’s sweater, slipping up and under for a brief moment before the redhead stops him, looking around nervously. He gives his friend an apologetic smile and drops his hand, and something inside Arthur starts to ache.

 

The blond says something, running his hands through his hair in obvious frustration and gesturing vaguely in Arthur and Eames’ direction. The redhead looks over at them, at Eames humming against Arthur’s neck, his hand on Arthur’s thigh, just above his knee and Arthur tries to make himself relax. To make it seem like it’s not big deal. Like it doesn’t bother him at all that Eames is showing him affection where everyone can see. Like it’s okay. Because it is, Arthur knows that, knows that his discomfort doesn’t stem from thinking there’s anything wrong with being with Eames, or from caring if others think it’s wrong. 

 

Suddenly he needs these boys to know that. To see that Arthur loves Eames, and that they have the right to display that in public. He rests his hand over Eames’ on his leg, stroking his fingers over the hair on Eames’ wrist. Eames stills for a moment, but he doesn’t pull back, just goes back to humming happily against Arthur’s throat. Arthur smiles, pressing his cheek against Eames’ brow. It isn’t much, he knows, but it’s all he can give right now. 

 

When he looks again, the boys are walking in their direction, hands brushing ever so lightly as they walk, stealing quick glances at Arthur and Eames. A surge of bravery comes over Arthur as the boys approach. They’re not headed for their bench directly, but they’ll pass close enough to hear anything that might be said, so Arthur raises his hands to Eames’ cheek, tilting his head up, and Eames, Eames’ face is so damn open and understanding that Arthur has to kiss him, right there, where everyone can see.

 

Eames jolts a little at the touch of Arthur’s lips, and then he’s kissing back, pressing his lips to Arthur’s again and again, smiling so wide Arthur can feel his teeth against his lips. Arthur pulls back, he can’t smile at Eames, he’s too nervous and unsettled for that, but he stares down at him with intent.

 

“I love you,” he says, clearly, and with purpose, and Eames’ eyes go wide, his smile is blinding. Arthur huffs out a breath, his throat tight and his stomach fluttering.

 

“Darling,” Eames rasps, his voice thick with emotion. 

 

“Stop that,” Arthur says, untangling himself from Eames’ lap and standing. He looks after the boys, who have reached the edge of the park. The redhead looks back at them quickly, his lips pressed together so hard they’ve gone white. When he turns back his hand nudges his friend’s, lacing their pinky fingers together. They’re further away than they were in the alley, but Arthur would have to be blind not to see the smile on the blond’s face when he turns his head.

 

Eames arms slide around his waist, pulling Arthur back flush against him. “Are you teasing me, pet?”

 

“No,” Arthur frowns, holding himself away from Eames a bit. “I just. When I was younger I think it would have made a difference if I’d seen people like us. You know, around.”

 

“People like us,” Eames says slowly.

 

“Happy. Together. Normal.”

 

Eames’ laugh vibrates through Arthur as he holds him closer. “Darling, you think we’re normal.”

 

“Of course we are,” Arthur snaps, pulling away and starting the walk back. Eames catches up quickly, once more taking Arthur’s hand in his. “We’re committed and in love, aren’t we?”

 

“We are,” Eames allows.

 

“Normal has nothing to do with what goes on behind closed doors. Normal is love and commitment. We have that in spades and no one has the authority to tell us that’s wrong.”

 

“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

 

Arthur stops and stares at Eames, the pitter-patter of his heart kicking up a notch. “I’m sure of us. Always, everyday. No matter what.”

 

Eames grins. “Does that mean I can kiss you properly now?”

 

“No,”Arthur snaps and pulls him forwards, quickening his steps. “But if you can get me back to the car in the next ten minutes I’ll blow you.”

 

“Front seat, or back?” Eames asks.

 

Arthur rolls his eyes, but can’t hold back a smile. “Front if you can get us back in five.”

 

Eames pulls him along until they’re practically running down main street, their hands linked and people turning to stare as they pass by. Arthur feels every set of eyes that look their way, like neighbours peeping through the blinds, like someone reading his diary in front of him. 

  
But he can’t help but laugh as Eames drops the keys and curses, shoving Arthur into the front seat when he finally unlocks the door. He smirks while Eames tugs his pants open, urging Arthur down with a firm hand on the back of his neck. And Arthur’s grin is so wide Eames hisses when his teeth graze the head of his cock, plunging in again and again as Arthur bobs to Eames’ rhythm. And when Eames grunts and comes, flooding Arthur’s mouth and holding him there until he’s swallowed it all, he can’t help the way his heart beats wildly and his stomach does a flip, because he chose this. He wants this, and he’s finally starting to believe he deserves it.


	12. January 5th: Twelve Bells a Ringing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January 5th: The Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOSH, IT'S FINALLY FREAKING DONE!
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to all of you who have been so patient with me, and cheered me on while I wrote so many fics that weren't this one! 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments, and for being so gentle with me while I explored this version of Arthur and Eames. I adore you and I hope this final chapter is worth that wait!

January 5th: Twelve Bells a Ringing

 

Arthur wakes while Eames is watching him, spread out on his stomach, hands shoved under his pillow, his gaze intent on Arthur’s beautifully slack face.

 

“Morning,” Arthur says through a yawn.

 

Eames cards a hand through Arthur’s hair.“You can go back to sleep.”

 

“Mmm, no. I want my box.” Arthur closes his eyes and curls into a tighter ball, shuffling closer to Eames.

 

“You’re so eager, pet. Always so willing,” Eames says, wondering how he got so lucky.

 

Arthur’s brow creases adorably. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“I just keep thinking I’ll wake up to find it was all a dream. That you really are too good to be true.” Eames hides his face in his pillow because his admission came out more vulnerable than he’d intended.

 

Arthur groans and flops over onto him, ignoring Eames’ grunts as he squirms and drapes himself over his back. 

 

“I am but a reflection of my leadership.” Arthur nips at Eames’ ear, biting down when Eames rumbles with pleasure.

 

“Shall we shower?” Eames asks, wiggling his hips until Arthur’s cock slips between his cheeks, and  _ oh _ , yes, please.

 

Arthur hums, rocking his hips slowly. “I dunno, I’m pretty good here.”

 

Eames chuckles. “Then by all means, continue.”

 

“Mm, yeah?” Arthur presses his yawn into Eames’ shoulder and digs his knees into the mattress so he can press against Eames longer and harder.

 

Eames responds by reaching back and pulling his cheeks open, groaning when Arthur slips lower and rubs over his hole. Arthur thrusts slowly, spreading precome along Eames’ crack while Eames sighs happily beneath him.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Eames asks, drowsy, but quite enjoying the firm slide of Arthur against him.

 

“You,” Arthur grunts, his mouth pressed to Eames’ shoulder blade. “Always you.”

 

Eames chuckles softly. “You’re such a sap.”

 

Arthur gasps in a strangled breath and comes, leaking warm and thick all over Eames’ ass. When he’s done, he slumps once more across Eames’s back, snuffling along his hairline and sighing contently.

 

“Good?” Eames asks, squinting back at Arthur.

 

“Yarp,” Arthur says and blows a giant raspberry at the base on Eames’ neck, making him wheeze and giggle.

 

“That tickles,” Eames gasps when Arthur pins his arms down and does it again.

 

Arthur scrapes his teeth over the pinkened skin. “Does it?”

 

“You’re making things worse for yourself, you know,” Eames informs him, trying to squirm away, but Arthur is notoriously hard to shake off when he puts his mind to it. “I was going to go easy on you today.”

 

“Liar,” Arthur laughs, biting the curve of Eames’ lat.

 

Eames yelps and tries to throw back his elbow, but his arms are still pinned under Arthur’s. “Now you’ll be lucky if you can walk when I’m done with you.”

 

“Big talker,” Arthur teases, bouncing on Eames hard enough to make his body protest.

 

“God, you’re like a hundred and sixty pound kitten.”

 

“Meow,” Arthur deadpans and bites him again, on the neck this time.

 

“Ow!” Eames surges to the side, rolling them so Arthur is crushed under him.

 

“Wimp,” Arthur wheezes, laughing.

 

Eames drags him out of bed by his ankles, ignoring Arthur’s protests when he falls gracelessly to the floor. “Shower time, kitten. You going to be a good boy for Daddy?”

 

Arthur sticks his tongue out and kicks at Eames playfully.

 

“It’s going to be like that, is it? My boy wants to play?”

 

Arthur ignores him and stretches, his longs limbs unfurling across the plush carpet as he mewls with contentment. Eames smiles down at him, once again shaking his head at his good fortune. He knows he’s part of the equation, but he’ll never get over feeling blessed that Arthur chose him. Picked his file out of hundreds and gave Eames a chance. Then stayed. Day after day, giving more of himself to Eames with every month that passed. 

 

It’s mind boggling to him that he gets Arthur like this, frisky and a little mean, when no one else does. That no one else ever has, that it’s something about what Eames gives him, the way they love each other, that brings Arthur’s walls down so he can be who he truly is. Fortunate isn’t a strong enough word for what he is.

 

“I love you,” he tells Arthur, emotion bleeding into his words.

 

Arthur stills, the languid movement of his body instantly transforming into alertness. He rolls onto his knees, shuffling until he’s close enough to rub his face against Eames’ stomach. He bares his neck and Eames curves a hand around it, relishing the fragile weight of Arthur’s throat under his palm, so open, so trusting, so completely his. For this, Eames has no words.

 

He pulls a sleep mask from the drawer of his bedside table, settling it over Arthur’s eyes until he nods, letting Eames know his vision is blocked. Eames trails two fingers over Arthur’s lips, signalling that he needs to be silent as they continue. Arthur licks at them, smirking.

 

Eames helps him to his feet and leads him to the shower, making sure the water is the perfect temperature before he guides Arthur underneath the spray, careful not to get the mask wet. Eames soaps up his hands, spreading them over Arthur’s skin and leaving a path of suds. He pulls back every time Arthur leans into it, and it doesn’t take long before he’s uncurling Arthur’s fists to work soap between his fingers. He makes a soothing noise when he works soap over Arthur’s cock, making him whine. He’s hard and leaking, but Eames has a plan, and today it’s very important that they don’t deviate from it. Today is all about timing.

 

By the time Eames is on his knees in the shower, shivering from the cold as he scrubs at the bottom of Arthur’s feet, his skin is buzzing and he’s feeling lightheaded. Dominating Arthur in bed is wonderful, and bringing Arthur out of his shell is heady, but taking care of him like this, putting his hands on the most precious person in his life, and being allowed to care for him, completely, is what Eames lives for. This is when he slips into a kind of hypersensitive existence, not unlike subspace, that has him seeing the allure in being at someone else’s mercy. Only for Eames, it’s only ever happened with Arthur, and the kind of mercy he’s looking for is the kind that makes feeling this for the rest of his life a possibility.

 

He takes his hands off Arthur and nudges him further under the spray, watching the water sluice over his pale skin and leave him smooth and clean. Eames waits until Arthur starts to fidget, his fingers twitching against the need to reach out and make sure Eames is still there with him, impatient for what comes next. Eames lets him wonder a moment more, then he swallows Arthur’s cock. No warning, no finess, just tight, wet heat until Arthur is hissing through his teeth in an effort to keep quiet. Eames keeps his hands to himself, only his lips, tongue, and mouth touching Arthur, working him up until his cock is throbbing and he’s coming in spurts down Eames’ throat. It’s brusque and uncomplicated, but it gets the job done, and Arthur is weak-limbed and shaking, just how Eames wants him.

 

He washes himself quickly and then dries Arthur off, mindful of the bruises and raw spots on his body from the last eleven days. Eames brushes a kiss over every mark he finds; an apology and a promise that it will always be like this between them. 

 

Back in the bedroom, Arthur startles when Eames takes out the bar, his body angling toward the sound of metal clinking against metal, and Eames brushes a hand over his curls, stilling him. Light pressure on Arthur’s shoulder has him falling to his knees, head tilted back and waiting, blindfold still in place, a perfect tableau of eager submission.

 

Once the bar is in place, straight and unforgiving across Arthur’s shoulders, his hands held aloft by the cuffs, Eames gets everything ready. He pulls up the red chair and moves Arthur in front of him, kneeling between Eames’ spread legs. Eames taps the mask over his eyes, silently questioning if Arthur is ready for it to come off. Arthur shakes his head and lays it heavily on Eames’ thigh, humming as he relaxes.

 

Eames lets him rest, carding his fingers through Arthur’s damp hair and dipping down to rub circles over his neck, wanting him to feel safe and secure before Eames starts talking. Arthur’s slim fingers curl around Eames’ calves, the tips tucking into the space behind his knees, and Eames huffs a laugh when Arthur wiggles them. Still feeling playful, then.

 

Arthur rubs his cheek over the hair on Eames’ thigh, nuzzling around the moles there and pressing innocent kisses to the places he finds particularly appealing. They do this sometimes, when Arthur needs to feel controlled, but free to do as he pleases. It’s just like cuddling, but with the grounding that only restraints can bring. 

 

Eames lets him play until Arthur’s movements start to slow and he stops trying to dip his face into Eames’ groin. He should be sedate, not asleep for this, so Eames brushes the mask away, cupping his hands over Arthur’s eyes to shield him from the lamplight. Arthur blinks up at him, his smile lazy and bright.

 

“Today is the last day of our little game,” Eames reminds him and Arthur nods, his lips compressing into a line. “Have you had fun?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur says, leaning his cheek into Eames’ hand.

 

“No Daddy,” Eames tells him. “Just Arthur and Eames.”

 

Arthur frowns, confused, but nods. “Okay.”

 

“Today’s theme is  _ Twelve Bells a Ringing _ , but it’s more of a metaphorical challenge,” Eames continues, feeling nervous. He pets Arthur’s shoulders, taking strength from the reassuring firmness. “A question, really.”

 

Arthur perks up, his eyes flicking to the gift bag on the table beside them.

 

“You know I love you, Arthur, and that I’ve tried to treasure you and deserve you from the very first day—”

 

“You have,” Arthur interrupts. “You do.”

 

Eames laughs wetly and cups Arthur’s face. “Thank you, now let me bloody finish.”

 

Arthur doesn’t look at all abashed and he bites his lip, his eyes bright with anticipation as his fingers start to drum against the bar.

 

“Our time together has been the best of my life, and nothing else compares to how fulfilled and useful I feel with you. I’ve never felt so loved, Arthur, and I want to thank you for that, because I didn’t know it could be like this, not really. I didn’t see how our moments could bleed seamlessly from one thing to another. It’s almost effortless and it takes my breath away every time. I don’t quite believe I’ve earned you yet, but I’d like to keep trying.” 

 

Eames’ hands shake as he picks up the bag and takes out the box. Arthur is trying hard not to squirm in front of him, but he must know what this is by now because he’s arching his neck subconsciously towards the gift, and Eames can’t believe there is anyone else on earth as perfect for him as Arthur is.

 

“Leonard Cohen wrote, ‘Ring the bells that can still ring, forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything, That’s how the light gets in’. You’re the crack in my soul, Arthur, and you are what lets the light in.” He takes the lid off the box and presents the collar to Arthur. 

 

Arthur stares down at the simple black leather band and lets out a deep breath. “Oh, thank god.”

 

“What?” Eames asks, worried.

 

“I worried it might have an actual, literal bell on it,” he explains, laughing.

 

Eames sputters, unsure of how to take that.

 

“I love it,” Arthur clarifies, grinning. “And yes, put it on me, please, right fucking now.

 

Eames hurries to it, a little unsteady at how lightly Arthur is treating this monumental moment. The collar is as soft as butter and sits snug on Arthur’s slender throat. Eames runs his fingers along the edge, his breath catching at how perfect it is.

 

“Let me out?” Arthur asks, shivering under Eames’ touch.

 

“Right, yeah,” Eames says, hurrying to obey.

 

Arthur looks over his shoulder to watch Eames release him. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

 

Eames’ head snaps up, his eyes going wet at the look of passion Arthur is giving him.

 

“I love you. You mean everything to me,” Arthur continues, surging upward as soon as the restraints are off. He grabs onto Eames’ face and kisses him fiercely, turning them around and pressing him back into the chair. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you, Eames.”

 

Arthur’s hands are as hungry as his mouth is and soon he’s straddling Eames’ lap, grinding down as they gasp into each other’s mouths.

 

“Thank you,” Arthur pants. “For wanting me, and keeping me, and giving me this.”

 

“Always, forever,” Eames promises, already sliding two slick fingers inside Arthur.

 

“Marry me.”

 

Eames freezes. His eyes travel slowly up to Arthur’s face, trying not to get distracted by the way Arthur’s ass is clutching desperately at his fingers.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I said marry me,” Arthur tells him, unaware that he’s thrown Eames’ world off its hinges. “Don’t stop,” he commands, wiggling down on Eames’ hand.

 

“Marry you?” Eames clarifies, his mind numb as he rubs his fingers inside Arthur.

 

“That’s where this is all heading, right?” Arthur asks, meeting Eames’ gaze as he bears down on another finger. 

 

“I, ah, I suppose,” Eames allows.

 

Arthur stops, frowning at Eames and fingering the collar. “Were you not thinking about marriage when you picked this out?”

 

“I was mostly thinking that I’d be lucky if you’d consent to wearing it around the house.”

 

Arthur snorts. “Around the house? I’m never taking this off, Eames. It’s mine, from you, and I’ll wear it until I’m dead. You can’t take it back.”

 

“I don’t want to,” Eames assures him quickly. “I mean it when I tell you I want you forever, Arthur.”

 

“Good, then marry me,” Arthur commands, like it’s just that simple.

 

Eames pauses to think. Could it be? Is a collar, given in the manner Eames has given it, with the intention of a shared life behind it, really all that different from a promise of marriage? His thoughts don’t get much further than that because while he’s been distracted, Arthur has pulled Eames’ fingers away and is now sinking down on his flushed cock, and all Eames can process is hot, and tight, and  _ Arthur _ .

 

Eames hooks his hands under Arthur’s thighs as soon as he’s fully seated inside him and stands, carefully carrying Arthur to the bed, because this is another first for them and he wants it to be perfect. He shuffles onto the bed on his knees, laying Arthur sideways across the mattress so he can grip the far edge.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Eames tells him, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of Arthur, long and lax beneath him. He’s squeezing rhythmically around Eames’ cock, but Eames doesn’t want to rush. He needs to savour this, to remember it, because it’s the first moment of the rest of their lives and he’s more emotional than he expected.

 

“Are you okay?” Arthur asks, bracing himself on his elbows, a crease deep between his brows.

 

“I can’t tell you your beautiful?” Eames asks, his voice cracking.

 

“You can, you just aren’t usually crying when you do it,” Arthur points out.

 

Eames laughs and swipes at his face, and sure enough, his hand comes away wet.

 

“You’re such a sap,” Arthur teases, pulling Eames down to him. “Whatever will I do with you?”

 

“Marry me,” Eames tells him seriously, pressing the words into Arthur’s neck with his teeth.

 

Arthur shivers, the gentle brush of his fingertips turning into the sharp bite of nails on Eames’ back. Eames thrusts, hard and fast, planting himself as deep inside Arthur as he can and holding until Arthur starts to squirm, pushing and pulling Eames until he’s working at a rhythm Arthur likes.

 

“Yes,” Arthur whispers, his arm hooked around the back of Eames’ neck to hold him in place. He drags his lips across Eames’ hairline, mouthing at the skin of his temple. “Yes.”

 

“Yes,” Eames agrees, hissing when Arthur cants his hips up. He closes his eyes and imagines he can feel the beat of Arthur’s heart, pumping blood, and life, and lust through the perfect being beneath him. Arthur is everything he’s ever wanted and more. He’s everything Eames has ever strived to deserve.

 

“I love you,” Arthur murmurs, kissing the tears spilling down Eames’ cheeks. “Even all sloppy and wet.”

 

“Shut up,” Eames huffs, sealing his mouth over Arthur’s. The kiss is lazy and deep, much like their love making, but it’s good. It’s easy, and it feels right. Like they have the rest of their lives to work out their kinks and play with each other, and right now, all they need is this. To be close, and slow, and enjoy the ride.

 

“I’m going to worship you,” Arthur tells him, his voice low and syrupy as he digs his nails into the meat of Eames’ ass to pull him closer, seat him deeper inside. “I’m going to be so good for you. I’m going to take care of you, and inspire you when you’re under a deadline and feeling blocked. I’m going to take you on vacations and fuck you in historic and potentially public places.”

 

Eames chuckles and sniffs, pressing his face to Arthur’s neck and thrusting long and slow. “We do that now.”

 

“I know, but now I’m going to do it as your husband,” Arthur says, and Eames chokes at the wonder and excitement in his voice.

 

“I didn’t know you felt this strongly about marriage,” Eames confesses, pulling back to look at Arthur.

 

Arthur squirms, moaning when Eames. “All my life I’ve felt like a burden. I’ve never had a place I felt like I belonged. Until I met you. From the very first moment, you made me feel wanted; like I had somewhere I could matter, if I wanted it. I knew, that first time, when you made me come in the coffee shop and then took me home and refused to hurt me like I thought I deserved. I knew then, Eames, that I wanted you forever. It was like, for the first time in my life, someone actually saw me.”

 

Eames has dissolved into tears again, kissing every part of Arthur he can reach and pumping his hips faster. He needs to come now, needs to mark Arthur as his, to cover Arthur’s body with his own and keep him close until he knows, without a doubt, that this is forever. 

 

“We’re going to be so good together, Eames,” Arthur gasps, throwing his head back as Eames grinds into him. “Better than ever. I’m going to make you so happy.”

 

“You already do, love,” Eames swears, getting his knees under him for leverage. He’s close now, and from the way Arthur’s hand is flying over his cock, so it he. “So happy.”

 

“I’m going to make you delirious with it. I’ll be so good for you, I promise,” he whines, clenching around Eames as he gets closer. “I’m going to learn to cook.”

 

Eames barks out a laugh as his orgasm hits, stealing his breath and barreling through him as he pumps into Arthur, filling him up. He’s still shaking with laughter when he’s done, barely holding himself over Arthur’s come splattered body as he snorts and giggles.

 

“Are you having an episode?” Arthur asks, still panting and clearly not impressed.

 

“Darling, I will buy you the biggest, shiniest ring we can find if you promise me you will not step foot near the stove. Ever.”

 

Arthur punches him in the arm and he collapses, hiding his laugh against Arthur’s collarbone.

 

“You’re an asshole,” Arthur tells him, pouting.

 

Eames nods and raises his head. “But I’m yours, yeah?”

 

The sweetest smile curls over Arthur’s mouth and he rubs his dirty hand through Eames’ hair. “Forever and ever.”

 

Eames kisses him, and it’s as good as a vow, for all promise he pours into it.

 

Arthur sighs against his lips when they break apart. “Now, what was that about big and shiny?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bells are metaphorical, get it? Wedding bells? The Leonard Cohen quote?


End file.
